A House Divided - DeSoto's Dilemma
by Piscean6724
Summary: The Desoto's seem to be drifting apart as a couple. Will their marriage survive? How does one paramedic's trouble at home affect the entire A-shift crew?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the third installment in the House Divided series. It takes place a few weeks after A House Divided - Hank's Haunting ends. I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: Adult themes and language throughout this story. In order to keep this one at the 'T' rating for this site, it will be edited. It you like the naughty details, then you'll find those in the longer chapters on AO3 and WWOMB. However, no such details in chapter one.

DeSoto's Dilemma – 1

Roy scraped his chair on the station floor as he stood up from the kitchen table. He had only consumed half a cup of coffee, but the verbal sparring between Chet and Johnny was giving him a headache.

"C'mon, Gage. Put your money where your mouth is, buddy."

"Oh shut up, Chet." Johnny watched as his down-trodden partner pushed away from the table, emptying his coffee cup in the sink.

"All I'm sayin' is that if you think the Dodgers will win, then put up a twenty and let's shake hands." Chet didn't have any more money to lose than his pigeon, but he knew Johnny would never take the bet. That left the lineman enjoying the misery he was inflicting on the paramedic.

"Twenty bucks is a lot o' money!" Johnny countered animatedly. "If the ump develops a case of far sightedness, I don't wanna lose my dough," he argued, tapping the table with his index finger while he watched his partner disappear through the kitchen door.

Chet stroked his mustache smugly. "Oohh, I get it. Chicken, huh?"

"Aww, go play on the freeway," Johnny retorted, getting up and following after Roy.

"What the hell's his problem?" The Irishman asked, craning his neck in the direction of the exiting paramedics.

"He doesn't want to take your bet, that's all."

"No, Mike. DeSoto… What's up with Roy?" Chet questioned, standing up to refresh his coffee just as the linemen and paramedics from C-shift traipsed through the swinging door.

Mike didn't have a chance to answer before the on-coming engineer walked in. Swiftly, the conversation switched from baseball bets and Roy's sour mood to rehashing the events of the previous shift.

E!

Roy pulled his blue uniform shirt over his head, forcefully cramming it into his duffle bag. He pulled on a red and white striped button-up shirt, then sat down on the bench to unlace his boots. He heard Johnny push open the door, but didn't feel like talking at the moment, so he continued silently changing into his street clothes. He was more than ready to go home, although he didn't particularly care for what awaited him there.

Johnny walked in, unsure of what to say to his friend. The only times he had ever seen Roy like this was when Harriet was visiting, or when he and Joanne had had an argument before Roy came on shift. He quickly began to disrobe, thankful that their C-shift counterparts usually arrived dressed for their shift. He tossed his uniform shirt and undershirt into his locker, then quickly sat down on the bench beside his partner. He waited for Roy to speak, but when he didn't, Johnny decided to open up the conversation.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"About what?" Roy asked curtly, standing up and exchanging his navy blue uniform pants for a pair of jeans.

"Whatever's been eatin' ya up this shift? Is Harriett visiting, or is it Joanne's job?"

Roy wanted to answer him with something sarcastic, but deep inside he knew that his partner was asking out of concern for him.

Johnny stood up, unbuckling his belt then shimmying out of his uniform pants and into his faded Levi's. He stood in the locker room, barefoot and bare chested, watching his partner for any indication that he was about to speak. When he saw Roy prop a foot onto the bench to tie his sneakers, he knew his friend was in trouble.

"C'mon, talk to me, Roy."

"I'm fine, John."

"Yea, 'bout as fine as a corpse," Johnny shot back, pulling his boots out of his locker and slamming the door shut. Roy's foul mood had been going on for several shifts now and was beginning to wear on the younger man's nerves.

"Everything alright in here?" Captain Shepherd asked, his head sticking in the slightly parted locker room door. He had heard the locker door slamming and decided to check it out.

"Fine," Roy grumbled, continuing to tie his laces.

"Yea," Johnny responded, glaring at his partner for the lie he had just told their shift captain.

Captain Shepherd looked at the faces of his temporary paramedics and completely misunderstood what he saw. He assumed they were worried about their regular shift captain. He slipped his thin frame just inside the door, making sure that it closed completely before he began, hoping to offer some encouragement to the pair.

"Listen, men. I've really enjoyed working with you fellas," he said, nodding his head toward the kitchen where the rest of the men were congregated. "All of you, even Kelly, and I just wanted to say that... Well, Hank Stanley is a very lucky man to have you fellas for a crew. He and I go way back to the Academy and..." He shuffled his feet, staring down at the gray floor. "I can't help but worry about him. I've watched too many good men leave us because of a bad run and..."

Roy and Johnny exchanged worried looks. They still weren't sure if Captain Stanley would be returning to them or not, and they certainly didn't know that anyone outside of their tight-knit group knew the truth about Captain Stanley's recent absences.

"And, I just want to ask you men, especially you two, to keep a close eye on him when he first gets back… Make sure all's well with him."

Johnny gulped audibly. "Um, I-uh, I mean we, we ah," he stuttered shaking his shaggy hair into his eyes as he darted his head back and forth between his sullen partner and their replacement captain.

Captain Shepherd raised his hand to stop the younger man. "It's alright, Gage. At ease, son. I know the real reason I've been covering for him. No one else does and I'd like to keep it that way. His reaction to some medication was a good one, but... Hank and I have been friends for a long time, and he trusted me with the truth. He personally requested that I take over his shifts these last few weeks."

"Y-you make it sound like he's comin' back?"

"He is," the older man said, offering a smile to the younger paramedic who still stood half naked in the locker room. "He wanted it to be a surprise, so please act that way. It's a sort of trial run, if you will. This is my last shift with you fellas. He'll be back in two days. I think he's going to work a few shifts before he makes a final decision about his future with the department."

"We'll a'right!" Johnny said, slapping his partner on the back. "Uh, I mean, nothin' against you, Cap'n Shep, but it's just that, uh, well, you know how close we can get with our captain and, um, how..."

"Johnny?" Roy finally chimed in with a grimace; the Johnny rant had to stop to ease the pounding in his head.

"Wha..?"

"Shut up," Roy tried to smile as he extended a hand to the substitute captain. "It's been a pleasure, sir."

"Oh, yea, yea... Absolutely," Johnny joined in, his cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment.

"Indeed it has, men." Captain Shepherd shook both proffered hands and wished the paramedics well during their time off. "Perhaps our paths will cross again someday," he mentioned, prophetically. "Under different circumstances," he clarified.

"Yea, I'd like that," Johnny said with a grin, hoping to leave the departing captain with fond memories of his time at Station 51.

E!

Johnny followed his long-faced partner out the open rear bay door, both heading to their respective vehicles. He wanted to reach out to his hurting partner, but he wasn't sure what to say or do. As a bachelor, he didn't exactly know what it was like to have a spouse, certainly not a working spouse. One thing he did know, every man needed food, especially after the long shift they had just finished. Both men were exhausted; being called out every two hours was not conducive to sleep. If Joanne wasn't at home to cook Roy's breakfast, he would probably grab a couple of pop tarts and hit the sack, too tired to cook himself a decent meal.

"Ah, say Roy?"

Roy turned sideways to look at his approaching partner. "Yea?"

"Why don't we grab some breakfast before we go home? Man, I'm starvin'." Johnny hoped his friend would agree to the diversion.

Roy considered his options. He was beyond tired and knew he would sleep better on a full stomach. He needed protein, not sugar, and his family had been eating cold cereal every morning for the last couple of weeks. He certainly didn't feel like cooking, but he did feel like eating. "Why not; I'll meet you there."

"The usual place?" Johnny asked, just as a clap of thunder boomed overhead.

Roy cut his eyes upwards, silently cursing the weather gods for matching the weather to his mood. "Yea."

E!

Gretchen McDowell looked down at her new gray uniform, grateful the dingy white apron covered the coffee stains incurred from her earlier mishap with a tray of dirty dishes. The once neatly ironed dress now appeared wrinkled and disheveled hanging on her thin frame. She was bone weary, having worked a split shift for one of the other waitresses and then her own midnight shift. The Pour House was an all-night diner, rarely packed to capacity, but enjoyed a steady flow of traffic at all hours. She saw the only other waitress on duty at the moment staring at her.

"Do I look that bad?"

"You just look tired, honey. Why don't you head on home, I'll cover your tables." Amy was a veteran Pour House waitress and had a motherly sense about her that the younger waitresses appreciated. Gretchen had only been on the job a week, but the hours she had been working would have worn out even an experienced waitress.

"I can't," Gretchen replied, looking back down at her apron, long tendrils of ash-blonde hair falling from her loose pony tail and clinging to her face. "I need the money, Amy. I'll be fine." She sprayed disinfectant on the table, wiping it down and making it ready for the next customer. She flinched as the unexpected thunder further stressed her frayed nerves. 'Great, walking home in the rain,' she thought to herself.

She looked up as the bell jingled on the door. A couple of young men walked in and made their way to a vacant table in Amy's section. She continued cleaning the table as she watched the friendly banter going on between the two men and their waitress. Amy obviously knew them and knew what they were going to order; she jotted down a couple of notes then walked over to the coffee pot and began filling two white cups with the steaming brew. Gretchen replaced the place mats and silverware on the clean table then headed back behind the counter. There was something about the red-haired man that registered with her brain, but she quickly dismissed it, noticing that his left hand was adorned with a gold band.

Amy set the coffee cups down in front of the men, smiling and chatting with them as if she had known them for years. She patted the red-haired man on the shoulder as she walked away, locking eyes with the new waitress.

"Nice fellas, those two," Amy said, slipping behind the counter beside her co-worker. "Dark haired one's named John Gage and the other one is Roy DeSoto. They're paramedics from Station 51, just down the street here," she said, pointing a brightly polished thumbnail behind her right shoulder. "Sometimes, the whole crew comes in after a tough shift."

"They're firemen, you mean?" Gretchen had never heard the word paramedic until now.

"Well, yea," Amy said, clipping the order to the metal spinning wheel for the cook. "But they also take care of hurt and sick folks, too. They treat them and get them as stable as they can before sending them to the hospital. It's a fairly new program here, only been around a few years, but from what I hear, they've saved a lot of lives."

"Hmmm," the younger woman mused, too tired to fully comprehend what she was hearing.

Minutes later, two breakfast specials were perched on the counter along with a ringing bell. Amy grabbed them both before heading in the direction of the firemen.

"If you work here very long, you'll meet them all. They're real life heroes, every last one of them from that station, heck from all the stations - Jeezus!" Amy exclaimed, barely able to prevent the profanity that nearly slipped from her lips when another clap of thunder rumbled overhead. She quickly set the plates down before the hungry men and returned to the conversation with Gretchen.

"Honey, I know you need to finish out your shift, but you only got 30 more minutes. It isn't worth getting caught in this weather. Go ahead and clock out. I'll cover for you. I don't want you to get wet running to the bus stop."

Gretchen looked out the windows again. The dark clouds were gathering and the wind was beginning to blow dust across the empty spaces in the parking lot. She knew Amy was right. She reached around behind her, swiftly untying the apron and stowing it away for the next shift. She made a quick stop by the ladies' room before slipping her sweater over her shoulders and reaching beneath the counter for her purse.

"See you tomorrow, and, uh, I appreciate you covering for me," she said, looping her black macramé hobo-style purse across her chest and heading to the time clock.

As she neared the table where the two paramedics were engrossed in serious conversation, she unknowingly slowed her stride and was startled when both men looked up, greeting her with a brief smile and a polite nod.

"I hope you enjoy your meal," she said softly, then quickly pulled open the door. Taking a right turn, she used her hand to shield her face from the dust and debris being blown in small circles around her by the approaching storm. She briefly considered taking the bus home which would allow her to seek shelter in the enclosed bus stop at the next corner, but her financial situation made her quickly change her mind. She needed every penny these days so her aching feet were going to have to traverse the uneven sidewalk that would carry her to her final destination, eleven city blocks away.

E!

Johnny shoveled the last forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, watching with concern as his partner's appetite seemingly diminished after eating barely half the food on his plate. 'Half a hot meal is better than cold pop tarts,' he mused.

"Sausage is really good. Don't let it get cold," Johnny suggested, hopefully prodding his friend into eating another few bites.

Tired blue eyes looked up from the plate. "You want mine?"

"No, you should eat it. You haven't eaten much."

"Guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought," Roy said, forcing himself to chew a large forkful of hash browns to appease his partner.

They both looked up as a new waitress ended her shift and walked towards the door. Both smiled, nodding at her as she exited, then returned to their meal.

"She must be new; never seen her here before."

Roy gave his partner an exaggerated eye roll. "Only you would keep up with every new female employee in every business you frequent."

"Hey," Johnny grins, leaning back in his seat. "Gotta keep my options open."

"Uh-huh," Roy smirked, downing the rest of his milk and reaching for his coffee.

Johnny wiped his mouth with his napkin, giving Roy a knowing wink when he saw Amy pick up the coffee pot and head in their direction.

"Need a warmer?"

"That'd be great, but, uh... I'd really like to know who the new girl is?"

"You're terrible, Junior."

Roy picked up a packet of sugar as Johnny tilted his chair back on two legs and smiled charmingly at their waitress. It was mean, but he knew Amy couldn't resist his lopsided grin.

Amy finished pouring the fresh coffee into both cups then stood with one hand on her hip. "You leave her alone, John Gage. She's a nice girl."

Roy snickered, thankful he hadn't yet lifted his cup to his lips. He stirred the sugar in his coffee, pretending not to listen to the motherly warning Amy was giving his partner.

"What's that s'posed to mean? I'm a nice guy."

"Then put all four chair legs on the floor," she admonished, unable to hide her smile. "Gretchen has had a rough go of it lately. She's trying really hard to get back on her feet."

Roy couldn't stop himself. "Meaning, she doesn't want you trying to get her on her back."

"Roy DeSoto!" Amy blushed, slapping the paramedic on the back with the cloth she had draped on her shoulder. "I doubt Joanne would appreciate such a comment," she began, turning her back on the two men. She then tossed her final comment over her shoulder. "But you're exactly right. Leave her alone, Johnny."

John looked at his partner who, for the first time in the last couple of shifts, seemed very close to smiling. He decided he would allow the barbs to be thrown at himself as long as it made his friend feel better. "That really hurt, ya know," he said, jokingly.

"Hey, if I'm not getting any, then you aren't gonna get any either," the older man said, setting his coffee cup back down, wishing he could take back the words he had just allowed to escape from his mouth.

Johnny placed both elbows on the table and leaned in closer to his partner. He allowed only a brief moment of silence between them, realizing that Roy was uncomfortable. "So... It is something between you and Joanne then, isn't it?"

The tapping of sand being blown against the glass window beside them interrupted the conversation.

Roy stood up, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket and dropped a couple of bills on the table. "I've gotta run. I don't like driving the Porsche in this weather; it likes to hydroplane."

Johnny stared down at their cluttered table. He then followed his partner pulling his wallet out and making sure to leave a generous tip for Amy, in spite of her good-natured ribbing. "Take it easy, and, uh, call me if ya, I don't know... If ya wanna get together or somethin'."

Roy looked longingly at his friend. He knew what Johnny really meant. Roy had said more than he had intended to, but he knew his problems would never be repeated by John Gage. The man could be trusted with his life - on shift and off. He was a good friend, and right now, Roy needed that friendship. He just wished he had the guts to tell his partner how difficult things really were at home.

E!

A/N: Just a short introductory chapter; more details with drama and angst in the rest of the story. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Warning: adult situations

DeSoto's Dilemma – 2

Amy stood behind the counter watching two of her favorite firemen walk away. Something was wrong with Roy and she had a feeling it had nothing to do with the shift he had just finished. She pulled the towel off her shoulder and began wiping down the counter once again, stopping briefly to ring up a couple of customers who were also rushing to get home before the rain began.

"Thank you, come again," she repeated, stashing the proffered tips into her pocket. The customers were from Gretchen's tables making the tips rightfully hers and Amy would make sure the young woman received every dime she was due, as soon as she returned for her next shift.

E!

Johnny turned the radio off in his Rover. He had pulled too many lifeless bodies out of mangled masses of metal during rainstorms like the one that was about to hit, and he had no intentions of becoming one of them himself or causing a wreck for someone else. He was tired and didn't want any distractions on his drive home. A concerned expression crossed his face as up ahead he recognized a form walking slowly down the sidewalk, in spite of the impending bad weather. She was one distraction he was willing to risk. Quickly surveying his surroundings, he pulled up near the curb just ahead of her, leaning over to open his passenger's side door.

"Hey, wanna lift?"

Gretchen was startled by the sudden movement beside her and scurried away from the voice in the unknown vehicle, increasing the pace of her footfalls.

"Oh boy," Johnny muttered, pulling the emergency brake on his rover and jumping out, hoping she might recognize him. "Hey, sorry… Didn't mean to scare ya. I'm John Gage," he introduced, nodding a shaggy head back in the direction of the diner. "From the diner, a few minutes ago."

Gretchen stared at him, lost for a moment in his handsome face. Then a lightning bolt zipped across the sky causing her to duck her head and look for cover.

"C'mon, lemme give ya a ride home. It's dangerous to be out in this weather." Johnny saw the apprehension in her eyes, but knew she was contemplating getting into a vehicle with a stranger, in spite of the obvious danger. "Look, I'm a friend of Amy's. I'm a firefighter paramedic with the Los Angeles County Fire Department. I'm not a criminal or some psycho. You're safe with me, I promise. C'mon," he said in his most caring voice, holding out his hand. "I just want ya to stay safe and dry, that's all."

Reluctantly, Gretchen considered the offer, remembering Amy's declaration that this man, and his partner, were nice men. She gulped back the lump that was forming in her throat, but the rain drops that began to pelt her face helped her quickly make up her mind. She accepted his hand, climbing inside his white land Rover clinging tightly to her purse. She had never done anything as reckless as this in her entire life, but if she were ever going to trust a man again, this was probably a good time to start.

"Th-thank you, Mr. Gage," she said meekly.

"Just call me, Johnny."

"Ok," she said, trying to smile, but unsure if the gesture ever fully reached her face. She waited for him to close her door, briefly considering bolting as he loped in front of the vehicle and climbed in behind the steering wheel, but ultimately deciding not to act on her fear. Maybe he was different. "M-my name is Gretchen."

Johnny looked behind him, waiting for a break in the traffic before pulling back out onto the street. "Nice to meet you, Gretchen. Where do you live?"

"Um, it's just up the street here, second light and take a right. I live in the second building on the left," she answered nervously.

"Oh, I go right by your place on my way home. I'd be more than happy to give you a ride any time you need one," he said, still staring forward. He could tell that the ole Gage charm wasn't going to work on this one. She didn't seem open to flirtation, so he maintained his clean, nice guy image. "I'll write down my number for you and anytime you need a lift, just gimme a call," he said.

"Thank you, Johnny. That's very nice of you," she said, tucking the stray strands of hair behind her ears.

The remainder of the short ride was made in silence. Johnny pulled to a stop in front of the building she had described and began digging around in the rear floorboard for a scrap of paper. Finding only a small brown paper sack, he pulled a pen out of his glove compartment and wrote down a couple of telephone numbers on the bag.

"Sorry, this is all I've got. The first number is my home number and the second one is the number at the station." He handed the bag to her, recapping his pen and returning it to his glove compartment. "Would you like for me to walk you in?" He held up both hands. "I'll be a perfect gentleman, promise. Just wanna know you made it inside."

She smiled at his antics. "That won't be necessary, but I do appreciate it. And the ride," she concluded, stepping out into the rain and dashing into the shelter of her apartment building.

"Gretchen, you are quite the mystery lady, aren't you?" Johnny said to himself, watching her until she had disappeared inside before driving away, headed for his own apartment and some much needed rest.

E!

Roy walked into his dark house, shirt damp from the rain that had just begun to fall. The house was quiet, exaggerating the missing sounds and smells he had grown to love over the years. A cold shiver crept up his spine and he wondered if he had told Joanne just how much he appreciated all her efforts to make their house a warm, loving home for their family.

He trudged over to the sink, opening the top cabinet where they kept their medications out of the reach of their children. Popping the top off the aspirin bottle, he tapped a couple of the bitter white pills into the palm of his hand, then tossed them to the back of his throat. When he reached for a clean drinking glass in the dish drain, he noticed three empty cereal bowls stacked neatly in the sink, a testament to the rushed morning his wife and children had experienced while he ate a hot meal with Johnny.

The dissolving tablets quickly began to irritate his throat, causing his eyes to tear up, at least, that's what he wanted to believe, anyway. He gulped down half a glass of water to rid his mouth of the foul tasting medication, then pinched the bridge of his nose. There, leaning against the sink, alone in his kitchen, Roy spent several moments valiantly fighting to keep his emotions in check.

The driving rain splattering against the kitchen window brought him back from his moment of self-pity. He stood up, stretching his back and lifting his arms over his head, trying to stretch out the knots that Joanne would so easily knead away if she were home. He scrubbed his stubbly face with one hand, then forced his heavy feet to carry him upstairs. He needed sleep, and the darkness created by the storm clouds would aid him in drifting off.

He toed off his shoes, removing his socks and outer clothing, then crawled beneath the covers of their unmade bed. Joanne had always been an immaculate housekeeper, but lately, more often than not, he had come home from shift and found their bedroom in disarray. He curled around her pillow, inhaling the lingering scent of her shampoo. Lying beneath the cool sheets made him think of how much he missed the morning intimacy they so often shared on days like today. As soon as the kids were off to school, they would snuggle together beneath the covers. Sometimes they talked about his shift, or the antics of the kids' adventures from the day before. Always, they would caress each other softly, tenderly. Inevitably, their lips would meet and ignite the passion between them. Their fire would burn as they fell into a familiar rhythm that left them both breathless and satiated, each held tightly in the other's arms. Then, precious sleep would overtake him, sometimes for a few minutes and sometimes for hours, depending on the previous shift, but Roy always awoke feeling well-rested, fulfilled, and loved. He closed his eyes, blowing out a frustrated sigh as he rolled onto his back. It had been nearly a month since they had experienced any intimacy in their relationship and he missed it; he desperately needed it. His body had responded to his memories leaving him with a familiar aching and fullness in his groin. But, fatigue finally won out and he drifted into a deep, but restless slumber.

E!

Hank awoke suddenly, still in a foggy haze, unsure of where he was or what was happening to him. Immediately, his mind went back to the night of Carrigan's death, feeling as if someone was holding him down to keep him from rushing to aid the fallen man. Then, he realized that the person holding him down would be considered a lightweight, with hair much longer than regulation length. The first man who came to mind was his younger paramedic, but when he reached to remove the offending presence, he realized quickly that the person stretched out covering half his body definitely wasn't Johnny.

The mistiness of sleep receded, clearing his mind and allowing a broad grateful grin to spread across his stark features. This was no nightmare; it was a dream come true. Gently, he stroked Rebecca's sleeping form, caressing the naked curves from her ribcage, across her hip, and along her upper thigh. They had been able to spend a blissful night together with no interruptions from nightmares, fears, or arguments. He kissed the top of her mussed up hair, feeling the deep rhythm of her breathing change as she began to stir. The fluttering of eyelashes tickled his bare collarbone and he knew she was waking up. He nervously hoped to see the love he felt reflected in those gorgeous opening eyes.

"Good morning, sleepy head," he kidded, once more placing a feather-soft kiss on her forehead. He was rewarded with a broad smile as she nestled back into the crook of his arm, rubbing small circles through his hairy chest.

She felt him pulling her closer and was overwhelmed by the feeling of intimacy and the sense of security she felt. It had been so long since they had enjoyed each other the way they had the previous night. "Mmmhmm," she moaned in response.

Dr. Robertson had insisted on working with Hank alone for a few sessions, and then with both of them as a couple. They had both been disappointed at first, when he recommended they not engage in any sexual activity for a while. Now, they both understood his reasoning and knew that they needed to work on healing the issues that caused the rift between them first. Hank had needed to begin healing as an individual before they could heal as a couple. Once their relationship began to be repaired, their trust in each other restored, the physical pleasures would be much more intense and bring them even closer together. Last night had been the first time they had shared their marital bed since the whole ordeal began, and both knew that it had been well worth the wait.

"'Becca, my love," he began, once again stroking her bare back and buttocks. "If I live to be 100 years old, I still won't be able to ever repay you for what you've done for me."

She couldn't help but snicker at his comment. "I was needing some of your special attention, too."

Hank smiled at her playfulness. "Well, the love-making was… Uh, to say it was passionately intense doesn't even begin to describe last night but… I mean, for sticking with me through all of this. You could've walked away and taken the girls and… No one would've blamed you." He tenderly pushed the hair out of her face, running his fingers along her hairline from her temple to her ear, studying everything about the face he loved so much, and grateful the bruising he had inflicted was completely gone. "I'm not back to normal yet, I know that, but I promise you that I WILL do whatever it takes, whatever Dr. Robertson suggests, to make everything between us right again. I-I want to see you happy, 'Becca."

She kissed his fingers as they brushed lightly across her lips. "Then we should've left the lights on last night," she teased. "I was pretty happy then."

Hank grinned at her flirtatious response, rolling them both over so that he lay on top of her once more. "Care for another round… In the daylight?" He lowered his mouth to hers, encouraged by her immediate receptive response, and for the next half hour, neither one thought of anything except pleasing the other.

An hour later, Hank was showered, shaved, and preparing breakfast for his wife when he heard a knock on his front door. He knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, looking at the clock for confirmation that it was still a little early for visitors. The girls had slept over at a friend's house leaving their parents alone with no particular time to wake up. He turned off the griddle and walked to the front door, clad in only an undershirt and jeans.

He was surprised by the man standing on his front doorstep. "Well, good morning, Shep. C'mon in and join us for breakfast. I just made way too many pancakes for just 'Becca and me," he said with a warm smile, stepping aside to allow his long-time friend to enter the residence.

Captain Shepherd inhaled appreciatively. "Well, if you've got a couple extra and don't mind another mouth to feed, I think I will."

The two men made their way back into the kitchen where Hank prepared two cups of coffee.

"Have a seat, 'Becca's in the shower. She'll join us in a few minutes." He set three place settings then returned to retrieve the pancakes. "Still take your coffee black?"

"Oh, yea."

Hank snickered as he placed the steaming cups on the table and joined his friend. "So, how are things down at the station?"

"Well, that all depends on whether I just finished my last shift there, or not," Captain Shepherd responded, inquiringly.

Hank leaned forward, offering his friend the platter of pancakes. He couldn't stop the smile from overtaking his lean face. "I certainly hope you have, Pal. I'm ready to get back on the truck with my crew."

Each man took a bite of pancakes dripping with syrup before their conversation continued.

"How was your shift?"

"Well, the engine had an easy shift, but the paramedics kept getting called out most of the night."

Hank swallowed another mouthful of pancakes. "Most of our calls these days are medical in nature, not like when you and I were boots."

"Actually, the subject of your paramedics is what brings me by here, Hank. Well, one in particular."

"Oh Lord… What's Johnny done this time?"

Under different circumstances, Shep would have laughed out loud at that comment, but in light of what he had been seeing in the face of the senior paramedic, he didn't even crack a smile. "After spending so much time with them, I see why you immediately jumped to that conclusion, but actually, it's DeSoto."

Hank clanked his fork down, tentatively sipping his coffee while he waited for his friend to continue. "Roy?"

"Mmmhmm," Shep answered around a mouthful of food.

Hank was stunned by what he was hearing. His senior medic was as reliable and stable as the sunset. He was about to ask more questions when Rebecca walked into the room.

"Oh, hello, Shep. I thought I heard Hank talking to someone," she said, pulling her collar up to ensure coverage of the small bruise that Hank had left on her neck as a reminder of the previous night.

"Hi, I hope you don't mind an extra for breakfast?" Shep asked.

"Not at all. Can I get you anything while I'm up?" She asked, pouring her own cup of coffee.

"Oh, no ma'am. This is all wonderful."

She sat down, joining the men with her own plate of pancakes. "These look delicious, honey. Don't know what I did to deserve this, but thank you."

Hank merely smiled, his cheeks glowing with a blush that went unnoticed by their guest.

"How are things at 51?"

Shep wasn't sure how much to say in front of his friend's wife, so he chose his standard generic answer. "About the same as usual. Those paramedics are probably both sleeping soundly right about now, though. They had a rough night."

The conversation turned to lighter subjects while the trio finished their meal. Rebecca knew that Hank and Shep needed some time alone to discuss Hank's return to the station. She stood up, offering to take their empty plates back to the kitchen.

"Why don't you two go into the den and I'll clean up? Here," she said, picking up the coffee pot. "Let me top off your cups and then give you some privacy to discuss the upcoming, um, changing of the guard," she offered, flashing her husband a quick wink.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he responded, grateful for her understanding.

As soon as they were settled in the den and heard the water running in the sink, Hank brought up the subject again. "Now, what's going on with Roy that has you so worried?"

Shep stretched his legs out, the constantly interrupted sleep from the previous night beginning to affect him. "I'm not sure. He's been a little distant and, uh, anxious lately, ya know?"

"Not like himself, huh?" Hank countered.

"This morning, I thought I overheard Roy and John having, uh, a heated exchange in the locker room. I stuck my head in and… They had their backs turned to each other, obviously pissed about something." He raised his coffee cup to his lips.

"Sometimes, John does aggravate Roy just a bit. It's probably nothing to worry about," Hank said, filing the information away for later.

"I hope you're right, because they're a great team. Hell, Hank, you've got the best damn crew in the county. I couldn't find a weakness among them, and believe me, I tried," he laughed, lightheartedly. "But, I really do think that there's something going on with your senior medic. I just couldn't turn them back over to you without you knowing my suspicions."

Hank inhaled deeply. "Thanks, Pal. I appreciate it. You're right, they are the best. And I'll do what I can to keep it that way, too."

"And, if I'm not overstepping my bounds here, ah, how are you doing?"

Hank stared at the coffee table for a moment, thinking of how to respond to his friend's question. Finally, he looked up, noting the true concern in Shep's eyes. "You know, Shep, for a while I didn't think I was gonna make it – truly, I didn't. You know I've been seeing a therapist, we both have," he admitted, nodding his head toward the kitchen. "And, now… Today, I'm feeling so much better about life, especially about my marriage and my family and… I'm gonna be okay, Shep. I'm not there yet, but… I'm gonna be okay. 'Becca and I are back on track and the girls seem happier. I'm still gonna be seeing Dr. Robertson for a little while, but… Honestly, life is so much better these days."

A warm sensation flooded the other man's heart. "That's wonderful. I'm so glad and, by that, I'm assuming that the department isn't going to lose you?"

"I haven't completely made up my mind, but… Firefighting is in my blood, you know that. Even after all that's happened over the last couple of months, I just can't see me doing anything else. I'm keeping an open mind about it. If I see that I, uh, can't handle it, or it starts affecting my family again, then… I'm prepared to give it up, permanently. But, I'm really hoping that it won't come to that."

"Well," Shep said, standing up. "I sure hope you're right. I need to run and catch a little sleep." He reached out his hand to his friend.

Hank switched his coffee cup to his left hand, then reconsidered. Instead of offering his hand, he pulled his friend into a manly hug. "Thanks, Shep. You got me through a tough time and I'll never forget it."

"Been there, man. Remember? Besides, if you do stay in this profession, and I believe you will, then you'll likely have the chance to help someone else through a tough time, too."

Hank walked Shep to the door, his friend's words etching themselves on the walls of his heart. He waved as Shep backed his car out of the Stanley driveway, all the while wondering if perhaps Roy DeSoto was going to be the man about whom Shep had just spoken.

E!

Joanne rewrapped her bleeding hand in a fast food napkin she found on the bench seat of her car, waiting for Chris and Jennifer to spot her in the car-riders lane at their elementary school. Her hand was throbbing, the pain matching the tempo of her heartbeat.

"Hi Mom," Chris greeted, sliding across the back seat to allow room for his sister to climb inside.

"Hi kids, how was your day?" She asked, gripping the steering wheel with her aching left hand in an effort to apply pressure to the bleeding wound. "Close the door for her, Chris."

"I can do it, Mommy," Jennifer said, pulling the door closed with both hands, proving to her older brother that she was strong enough to complete the task alone. She had always had a competitive streak about her, never wanting to be outdone by her sibling even though he was four years older.

Joanne smiled as she pulled out of line and headed towards home, shaking her head at the thought of how similar Jennifer's personality was to that of her father's. "Who wants pizza for dinner?"

"Yeah!"

"Yea, Mom, that'd be far out!"

"Far out?" Joanne questioned, staring at her son through the rearview mirror. "You've been hanging out with your Uncle Johnny too much, young man," she teased.

"All the kids say it, not just Uncle Johnny," Chris argued, unaware that his statement sounded as if he had just referred to John Gage as a kid.

Joanne smiled again, turning on her blinker to head into the Pizza Parlor nearest their home. She shifted into park, then stared again at her injured hand. "Uh, Chris, do you think you can order the pizza for us?"

"I can go in all by myself?" The youngster asked, wide-eyed with excitement.

"And I can go too?"

"Nope, you're too young," he responded snidely to his sister, as he accepted the bills his mother was handing him over the seat.

"He's right, Jennifer," Joanne agreed. "You stay here with me. He's older than you are. Get a large pepperoni, alright?" she instructed.

"He's always older than me," the blonde-haired girl pouted, her lower lip beginning to quiver as the tears welled up.

"Yes, he'll always be older than you, but when you're ten years old then you can do things by yourself, too."

Joanne consoled while Chris closed the door, unaware that he stood outside the window momentarily, quickly sticking his tongue out at his younger sister before trotting inside to order the pizza.

"Mom-mmmyy!" Jennifer wailed, causing the throbbing in Joanne's hand to move up to her temples.

"Jennifer DeSoto, stop that!" She scolded, her voice much harsher than she had intended.

Ten minutes later, the sniffling whimpers of Jennifer could still be heard from the backseat when Joanne saw Christopher returning, carrying the large green and white pizza box in both hands. She got out, opening the back driver's side door for him. She slammed it shut only to open her driver's door and once again hear the blood-curdling wails of her younger child.

Chris climbed in and took one look at his red-faced sister. "Cry baby," he proclaimed, then immediately regretted it when she squeezed her eyes shut and turned on the water works again.

Joanne glared at her children once more through the rearview mirror. "Christopher Roy DeSoto, what did you do to her?"

"Nothing, Mom. I didn't touch her. I'm on my side of the seat," he argued, fully aware of the lie he was telling.

"He…called…me a…cry ba-by!"

"Well, you are crying aren't ya?" He sarcastically questioned, leaning towards the sobbing child, hoping his mother wouldn't hear his remark.

"Not another word out of either of you, understand?" She asked, using her no-nonsense tone of voice.

"Yes, Mom."

"Uh-hu," Jennifer whimpered.

The rest of the ride home was made in total silence, three unhappy occupants looking forward to getting home and away from each other. As soon as they got out, Christopher carried the pizza inside then turned around to see his mother dropping the bloody napkin into the trash can and tearing a paper towel off the roll beside the sink. He stared at it, opening his mouth to ask a question just as his mother spoke.

"I need to go bandage my hand, so do you think the two of you can sit here and eat your pizza without mortally wounding each other?" She shot dagger-filled eyes at both children, pinning them to their seats at the kitchen table.

"Wha-what happened?"

"Just a little accident at work," she explained to her concerned son. "So please, get yourself and your sister something to drink and keep quiet. Daddy's probably sleeping."

"Not anymore," Roy said, stepping into the kitchen with a yawn, having heard only the last part of his wife's statement.

"Daddy!" Jennifer slipped sideways out of her chair and jumped into her father's arms.

"Hey there, princess."

"Dinner's on the table, Roy," Joanne explained. "I picked up some pizza on the way home."

"Again?"

"Well, I'm earning a little money now so we can afford to get take out more often," Joanne answered coldly, in response to Roy's one word question. "I'm gonna head to the bedroom for a little while."

"Okay," Roy said, returning his daughter to her seat at the table. "I'll see about the kids."

"Good, 'cause they're really on a rampage today," she complained, heading up the stairs trying her best to hide her injured hand.

"I picked up the pizza, all by myself," Chris corrected, proudly.

"I wanna coca cola with my pizza," the youngest DeSoto ordered, much preferring that her father take care of her thirst than her pesky brother.

Roy quickly prepared three glasses of soda and grabbed the roll of paper towels from the holder, placing it in the center of the table. "We can eat off these so we won't have so many dishes to wash."

Chris took a large bite of his pizza then tried to talk. "Dea, cauz mom 'urt 'er 'an."

"Chris, don't talk with your mouth full," Roy admonished, placing a slice of pizza on a napkin for his daughter and seeing her stick her tongue out at her brother. "Jennifer, that's rude and very unlady-like. I better not see that happen again or you'll spend the rest of the afternoon and night in your bedroom, understand?"

"Sorry, Daddy."

"I'm not the one you did that to. Tell Chris you're sorry."

Large round blue eyes grew even wider. "But, he didn't tell me he was sorry when he did it to me and he-he called me a-a cry baby, too!"

"Chris?" Roy questioned, reaching for his own slice of pizza, the third pizza dinner he'd endured for the week. The station generally preferred to order pizza when it was Chet's turn to cook and Joanne had picked up a pizza on her way home at the beginning of the week, also.

Chris rolled his eyes. He really wanted to call his sister a tattle-tale, but decided to reserve that for a later time. "Sorry, Jen," he uttered, knowing his father expected it.

"I'm sorry, Chris," the younger sibling reciprocated.

The meal was finished by the three of them and Roy glanced toward the stairs. "I think your mother is hiding from us."

"Naw, she hurt her hand at work," Chris explained.

"What? How?" Roy questioned, closing the top on the pizza box and placing the leftovers in the refrigerator for Joanne to eat later.

"I dunno, it was bleeding bad, though," Chris relayed.

"You two wash your hands and mouths and watch a little TV. I'm going to check on your Mom."

Roy eased open the bedroom door and heard angry curses emanating from their partially closed bathroom door.

"Owe, damn it!"

"Jo? You okay?" He asked, knocking softly. When she didn't respond, he pushed the door open a little wider.

Joanne sat on the closed toilet lid, with a bottle of alcohol, a pair of tweezers and a sewing needle spread out on the bathroom counter. Blood-stained toilet tissue lay in a pile beside her open left hand.

"Shit!" She cursed again.

"Jo, what happened?" Roy asked, reaching for her injured hand, surveying the damage.

"I was in a hurry to leave work to pick up the kids from school and I jabbed myself with a piece of florists wire," she said, picking up the needle and digging deeper into the lower part of her open palm. "It broke off in there and I can't reach it."

"Why didn't you say something? I would've taken care of it for you." He reached for the needle, tenderly holding her hand.

"I didn't want to bother you," she muttered, wincing as he dug the needle into her sore hand. "Besides, the kids were being little monsters and I just needed a break. I-I thought I could get it out."

Roy carefully used the needle to slice open the skin just above the small wire. He then picked up the tweezers that had been soaking in the alcohol and with a slow steady hand, he removed the wire. Placing her hand over the sink, he then washed the wound with soap and water before pouring more alcohol on it.

"Ouch, Roy!"

"I know it burns, but you don't want it to get infected. You're up to date on your tetanus shot, right?"

"Yes, Doctor DeSoto. Got one when Jennifer was a toddler," she said, watching him pat her injury dry, then bandage it with gauze and tape. The throbbing continued in both her hand and her head. Immediately, she regretted her harsh words, but there was no way to take them back. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"No problem," he lied, tossing the gauze and tape back into the drawer and walking out the door. "Least I'm good for something," he mumbled, too softly for her to hear as he made his way back downstairs.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the PM's and reviews. I can not thank you enough for you encouragement for this series. I welcome all reviews, as they help make me a better writer.


	3. Chapter 3

Hank stared at his wife, sitting across the living room, laughing at an 'I Love Lucy' rerun. A sense of overwhelming unworthiness swept over him. He glanced around his home, his castle, and thought of all he had nearly lost. Slowly, he stood up and walked over to her. Rebecca merely looked up into his face and smiled.

"You okay, Hank?"

He reached out his hand to her, pleased when she accepted it and stood up in front of him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on top of her head.

"I just can't believe you're still here, we're still here together," he crooned, almost mournfully, as he swayed gently from side to side like a flag blowing in a gentle spring breeze.

Rebecca gulped, clasping her hands behind his neck and resting her head against his chest. He had been in this morose mood all day, and she thought she knew why. Her sessions with Dr. Robertson had allowed her a chance to glimpse inside the injured soul of her husband.

"Hank, let's talk for a minute," she suggested, pulling back slightly, feeling his breath quicken.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked anxiously, allowing himself to be led to the sofa where they both took a seat.

She held his hand, caressing it between both of hers. "For the last several days, it seems that all you've done is apologize repeatedly to me and the girls for what happened." She looked into his hazel eyes, allowing her own tears to spill onto her cheeks as she reached deep inside for the courage to verbalize what she was thinking. "Maybe, um, maybe you aren't finding the peace you need in here," she lifted his hand and placed it over his heart. "…because, the girls and I aren't the only ones who need to hear what you're trying to say."

Hank clutched his wife's small soft hands to his chest, her words ringing truth into every fiber of his being. He licked his lips, his eyes never parting from hers. "I-I don't… I don't know what to s-say to them." He knew exactly about whom Rebecca was referring.

She released one of her hands from his and raised it to tenderly caress his dark hair away from his brow. "Just tell them what's in your heart, what you're feeling. It'll be okay, Hank. I know it will."

He vehemently shook his head. She was asking him to do something more difficult than anything he had done so far, and he really didn't know if he had the strength to do it. "I-I can't, 'Becca. They'll… They'll think I'm…" He looked down into his lap, squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't know what they'll think but… But it won't be good."

"So you plan to just waltz back in there on Thursday and pretend like nothing ever happened?"

Hank felt the lump forming in his throat, unable to dislodge it as it grew larger and larger, threatening to cut off his breathing. "But," he began, his voice breaking as he looked into her eyes once more. "But, I feel so…"

"Feel so what? Exposed? Vulnerable?" She pressed him further.

"So, af-afraid of-of what they'll think or d-do," he finally admitted.

"Afraid, they might… Forgive you?" She asked, squeezing the hand she still held.

Hank stood, exhaling loudly. He had endured several trips to the therapist's office recently and always felt drained afterwards. Dr. Robertson had said that was normal, but this wasn't a normal feeling for him. It was emotionally taxing and physically exhausting. The feeling was somewhat similar to a good workout, leaving him exhausted, but with a sense of accomplishment.

Now, his precious wife was making him feel the same way. But, she was absolutely correct, and he knew it. There was no way he could go back to work and act like nothing had ever happened. In the past, he had trusted his men with his life and now, his engineer was entrusted with Hank's secret shame, so then the only plausible explanation for why he was afraid to face them was because they might forgive him, forgive him too quickly. Somehow, he needed some kind of penance, something horrific and so far, no one had punished him the way he felt he deserved. His wife had welcomed him back home with open arms, his girls had done the same. His long-time friend, Shep, had faced a similar experience years earlier and had overcome it. He too, was very quick to tell Hank that he needed to let go of his guilty conscience and return to doing what he loved doing most.

Hank felt his wife stepping up behind him, her arms snaking around his midsection, leaning her body supportively against his back.

"Why don't we host a cookout tomorrow night? Just a guys' night out, you and the fellas from your crew. You can cook hamburgers, have some chips and beer, and… And ask them to forgive you."

"I don't know," he sighed.

"And you have to do the most difficult thing on earth, Hank," she said, sliding around to face him. "You have to accept their forgiveness… Because they'll want to offer it. So don't let them down."

Her last words stung a little. Would he be letting them down if he didn't at least try to do what she was asking of him? He clenched his teeth together, working his jaw muscles as he answered her with a slight nod.

"Call Mike. Ask him to call the others so you don't have to, and then the girls and I will make ourselves scarce tomorrow afternoon. I can make up the hamburger patties tomorrow morning and make some potato salad and baked beans, maybe a…"

"Whoa…just burgers, chips, sodas and beer. Nothing more, alright?" He asked, holding up his hand to stop her planning.

The sparkle in her eyes melted his heart. Inside, she was weeping tears of joy. This was the last big hurdle Hank had to clear before beginning the final step in ridding himself of the festering disease that had been ravaging him for weeks. She just hoped that when it was all said and done, his crew would give him the unspoken permission to accept the internal peace he so desperately needed, the peace they all needed.

Hank reached for the phone, sighing as he dialed the familiar number. He waited for his engineer to answer. Finally, on the fourth ring, he heard the voice he knew so well.

"Hello?"

"Uh," Hank closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. "Mike, it's Hank."

"Hi, Cap. Good to hear from you. How are things going?"

"Pretty good, uh, I really need to ask a favor of you… If you don't mind."

"Sure," Mike agreed, his heart thudding inside his chest. He had been concerned that his captain might never return to 51's, or anywhere else in the fire service. Now, he feared he was about to hear his superior say that he was, in fact, resigning from his position as leader of the A-shift.

"I, uh, I'd like to have a cookout tomorrow afternoon, just us men from the crew and, uh, I was wondering if you'd make the calls for me. Say around 5:00 o'clock?"

Hank heard the hesitation on the other end of the line and broke out in a cold sweat. Was his engineer about to refuse to attend or take part in any way?

"Yea, sure, that'd be, ah, that'd be great. What can I bring?" Mike could hear his own voice trembling.

"Just yourself and the rest of the guys. I, uh, I want to get together with the five of you before I, um, before I go back on shift," he said, nervously.

Mike's mouth immediately went dry. "So, does this mean that you're coming back on shift with us?"

"I'll be back on Thursday, but Mike, I honestly haven't made up my mind yet about my future with the fire service. So, um, let's just keep this between us, okay?"

"You bet, Cap. What should I tell the guys? They'll want to know something."

Hank ran a nervous hand across his forehead, rubbing his left temple. He hadn't anticipated that question. "Ah, well, just tell them that I wanted to see everyone before next shift."

"Alright, I'll make the calls and, ah, I'll see you tomorrow, Cap. If there's anything I can bring, just give me a call." There was so much more Mike wanted to say, but now didn't seem to be the appropriate time.

"Thanks, Mike. I appreciate that, but just your presence will be enough. I, uh, I appreciate everything you've done for me… For my family and, I'll…" His voice began to crack. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you then, Cap."

E!

Joanne used her uninjured hand to rub her aching arches. When she looked up into the mirror, she barely recognized the face staring back at her. She looked haggard, and the day she had experienced hadn't helped at all. First, she got busy at Bloomers and rushed to complete an arrangement, stabbing florist's wire into her hand. Then she barely made it to the elementary school in time to pick up the children. Unfortunately, they were not getting along, at all, which gave her a headache, causing her to choose takeout pizza for dinner for the second time in a week. This had upset Roy, but she knew there was more to Roy's sour mood than the pizza. She had been neglecting him in another way, not just with his meals. She had promised him that her job wouldn't interfere with their home life, yet it had interfered. He deserved better than what she had been giving him. He had been great taking care of the children while she tended to her bleeding hand, and she decided to repay him in the way her man seemed to appreciate the most.

Standing up, she began running a hot bath, dripping a generous amount of lavender scented bubble bath into the running stream. She sank back against the porcelain tub and allowed the rising steam vapors to relieve her stress and body aches. Hopefully, she would feel more like providing Roy with a little stress relief later on.

E!

Roy was wiping the last of the pizza crumbs off the table with a damp dishcloth when the phone began to ring. He shook out the dishcloth into the trash can then picked up the telephone.

"DeSoto residence."

"Hey, Roy… It's Johnny, uh, Stoker just called. He said Cap wants all of us, crew members only, to go to his house tomorrow night for a cookout. Said to be there around 5:00 pm and don't bring anything, Cap's supplying it all." Johnny waited to see what Roy thought about the invitation.

"Um, okay, uh… What's this all about?" Roy asked, tossing the dishcloth on his shoulder like he had seen Amy do so many times at the Pour House.

"I was hoping you might know. I don't like it, Roy. Something's up."

Roy crossed his arms over his chest, pinning the phone between his ear and shoulder. "Well, it seems like good news always comes on the phone, but bad news is delivered face to face."

"Yea, and a cookout is definitely face to face," Johnny sighed. "Why don't I pick ya up 'bout 4:30 pm?"

"Sounds good, uh, you think he's… Um, could he have changed his mind about coming back?"

"I don't know, Pally. Guess we'll find out tomorrow."

"Yea… Guess so. See you then," Roy muttered.

"See ya."

Roy looked around the corner into the den and saw that both children were engrossed in a television program. "Jennifer, as soon as that program goes off, you need to get your bath, alright?"

"Do I have to?" She whined.

"Yes," Roy responded, his sensitive ears perking up when he heard his son snicker. "When she gets out, then you get yours, Chris," he called out.

"Yes, Dad," the youngster said with a groan.

Roy began running hot soapy water into the sink. He wanted to get the dishes washed before Joanne came downstairs. He had heard her turning on the water in their bathroom and knew she would likely be awhile. She enjoyed long soaking baths when she was tired or stressed. He knew she wouldn't be able to do the dishes with her hand injured, and he had been home all day, whereas she had been at work. Things had changed so much in just a short time, but he had other friends who had working wives, and if they could make it, then so could he and Joanne.

As he was drying the last of the dishes, Joanne walked into the kitchen, her robe cinched tightly at her narrow waist.

"Hungry?"

Joanne opened the refrigerator door, rummaging inside looking for a piece of fruit. She just didn't have the stomach for anything heavy like pizza. "Yea, a little. I don't really want pizza, though."

"Daddy's making me take a bath," Jennifer pouted, stomping past the two of them on her way to her room.

"Chris will have to take one too, so wipe that pout off of your face," Joanne commented back. "And don't forget to brush your teeth, young lady."

"I won't."

Roy looked around the kitchen, everything seemed to be in its proper place. "I'm still a little stiff from our last shift. Think I'll go hit the shower, too."

Joanne watched as her husband climbed the stairs, noting the heaviness he seemed to be carrying on his shoulders. 'Maybe he needs a good shoulder rub,' she thought to herself, then looked back down at her bandaged hand, realizing that Roy's massage would have to wait until another day. She ate a few slices of pineapple, then instructed Chris to bathe as soon as Jennifer was out of the bathroom.

"I want both of you in bed at your appointed bedtimes," she ordered.

"We will, Mom," the older DeSoto child responded.

"Television off, lights out, okay?"

"Yes, Mom," Chris moaned, half-heartedly, continuing to watch television.

"Your Dad and I are both tired so we're going to bed early." Sleeping wasn't exactly what she had in mind, even though that was what she wanted to do more than anything else.

She quickly made her way upstairs, disrobed, then crawled into bed. He would be out of the shower soon, and hopefully, he would be happy with a short bedroom interlude, not a marathon love-making session.

E!

Roy lathered up his body then stepped beneath the hot spray of the shower. He could feel the tension leaving his body, flowing down the drain along with the shampoo and suds, well, most of the tension, anyway. He was still feeling tense in one area and knew that, with Joanne having the day she had experienced, relieving it was going to be left up to him. Once again, he lathered up his hands, running them over his lower abdomen until he reached his destination. For the next few minutes, beneath the spray of the hot water, he provided for himself that which he normally depended on his wife to provide for him.

He rinsed himself off completely, one last time, then made sure he left no evidence of his activities in the shower stall. Chill bumps covered his body when he stepped out of the shower and into the cool room air. He scrubbed his body and head with a thick towel, drying off as much of the moisture as he could, before dressing in his boxers and a t-shirt. As soon as he brushed his teeth, he stepped back into the bedroom.

There, in the bed already, was his wife. He could tell by the way the covers left her bare shoulders exposed, that she was naked. He looked into her face and saw the smile that usually meant that she was in a romantic mood, but the smile only covered the lower part of her face.

"Thought you might want some company before you went to sleep," she said softly.

"I know you don't feel well, Jo. It's alright, we don't have to," he said, slipping beneath the covers and turning his back to his wife. He didn't want to tell her that he had already taken care of his own needs in the shower earlier. Besides, he knew she was only making the offer because she felt guilty for how long they had gone without making love recently. She didn't seem to understand that the most enjoyable part of making love, for him, was when he was meeting her needs, providing her with pleasure. He didn't want a one-sided relationship. He wanted them to enjoy each other, so he would have to wait until she felt better. Then, maybe the act would be mutually satisfying. "Good night."

Joanne reached up, turning off the lamp on her side of the bed, ashamed that she was feeling relieved instead of disappointed. "Good night, Roy."

They both settled into their bed in the darkness, neither one close enough to touch the other.

E!

Hank spent the following day cleaning the grill and the back deck. He had cut the grass and trimmed the hedges earlier in the week and was grateful his lawn was slow-growing. As the day wore on, he became more and more anxious about the impending meal and impromptu meeting with his crew. Several times, he found himself daydreaming about the last time they had all been together. He had been pinned to the floor by his senior paramedic and senior lineman after punching his junior linemen in the face. Of course, he had been in the throes of a vicious nightmare, but that still didn't change the facts. Rightfully, he deserved a serious reprimand, or worse, for his actions during the weeks preceding and including the nightmare incident. But, his men had all been very supportive, seemingly understanding that he would never intentionally harm anyone of them. Now, they would be arriving at his home in a few short hours, and he had no idea how to respond to them. He had been trying all day to formulate his speech, finally, giving up and deciding instead to do what his wife had suggested. He would simply speak to them from his heart.

He looked at his watch again, it was shortly before five and his guests, his friends, should be arriving shortly. He looked around the deck. The charcoal was heating in the grill and the drinks were iced down in a cooler. The table was adorned with a red table cloth, the edges flapping gently in the light breeze that rustled around the corner of the house. Rebecca had loaded it down with various condiments, veggies, two different kinds of cheese slices, and various plastic wear. The meat was inside in the refrigerator already seasoned and shaped into quarter-pound size patties. All that was left was to cook the hamburger patties and for the guys to arrive. He was staring out into their backyard when he heard the sliding glass door open. Turning around, he saw his beautiful wife walking towards him, a nervous smile on her face.

"You okay?"

"Yea," he responded, meeting her halfway across the deck. "Just feeling a little… I don't know, nervous, maybe?"

She reached out, embracing him in a long secure hug. "I love you, Captain Hank Stanley…" She pulled back to look deeply into his eyes. "So do they, so just treat them like the friends they are, okay?"

"How did I get to be so lucky?" He asked, kissing her softly.

"That goes both ways," she said, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. "Just remember that… It goes both ways with your crew, too."

Rebecca felt him nodding his head affirmatively. "Listen, the girls and I are going to catch a movie and maybe get our nails done. I want you to have plenty of time with your crew, so don't worry about us. If anyone is still here when we get back, we'll just stay out of the way."

"God, I love you, 'Becca," he said, pulling her into one last passionate embrace.

"I love you, too. Now, let's go get the meat so you can start grilling. They'll be here soon."

The two walked arm in arm into their kitchen. Hank removed the meat from the refrigerator while Rebecca removed the lettuce, onions, tomatoes, and pickles she had already arranged on a platter. They carried the food onto the deck, placing it on the table just as they heard a car door slamming in their driveway.

"Sounds like my cue," she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek one last time. "I'll get the door and send whoever it is out here. Then the girls and I are leaving."

"Thank you, 'Becca. I mean it from the bottom of my heart."

"You're welcome. Now, take a deep breath and move forward with the rest of your life," she said, offering him a wink as she returned to the kitchen. "Girls? Let's go," she called out, grabbing her purse just as the doorbell rang.

Hurriedly, she opened the door, smiling at the sight she saw on the other side. "Thanks so much for coming. He's on the deck," she said, scurrying out the door, allowing Hank the space and time he needed to accomplish the difficult task that lay ahead.

E!

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading this and especially to those of you who are sharing your thoughts with me. I truly appreciate you all! There are a few extra lines that I had to delete for this site but you can find them on AO3.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mike strummed his fingers on the steering wheel, turning into the Stanleys' neighborhood. Anyone meeting him on the quiet street would assume that he was listening to a dance tune on the radio, but instead, he was tapping out the rapid tempo of his heartbeat. He was nervous, unsure what Captain Stanley had in mind for the evening. He pulled up into a vacant spot in the Stanleys' driveway, slamming the door on his pick-up truck, then walking up the sidewalk. He was about to knock on the front door, when it suddenly opened. Rebecca Stanley stepped out to greet him, planting a friendly kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks so much for coming. He's on the deck."

When she took a step back from him, his worried blue eyes met her gaze. "How is he?"

"Nervous about tonight. He has to do this though. It's for the best," she offered without further explanation, then headed to their blue Edsel, Missy and Vickie scurrying past her, vying for the front seat.

Her words did nothing to relieve Mike of the nagging fear he had been dealing with since Hank's phone call the previous day. He waved to the departing Stanley ladies, then walked through the house headed for the sliding glass door, and whatever the upcoming gathering held.

Hank dropped the last hamburger patty on the grill, inhaling the delicious smoky scent as the burgers began to sizzle. He closed the lid, then opened up the red and white ice chest, digging around until he pulled out a cold bottle of beer.

"Got any more?"

Hank looked up, somewhat startled by the sound of his engineer's voice. "Stoker… So good to see you. It's been a while. Here," he said, popping the top off the beer in his hand, and offering it to his friend.

"Thanks, Cap."

"Thank you," Hank said, popping off the top with the bottle opener and taking a long drink, after which an unflattering belch surfaced. "Ugh, excuse me. It's ah… It's been awhile since I drank a good beer."

Mike leaned against the railing, his mouth watering from the smoky aroma floating past his nose. "Thought I'd come on over. See if maybe you needed any help with anything."

"Nah," Hank said, lifting the grill lid once more, even though he knew the patties weren't ready to turn. "'Becca helped me get everything ready; just gotta let the burgers cook and wait for the others to get here…" He looked up, his voice fading. "…they are coming, aren't they?"

A couple of slamming car doors echoed around the corner of the house. Mike felt a sense of relief and dread swirling inside his chest, but his face held the ever pleasant smile for which he was so well known. "Yes sir… And it sounds like they're here now."

E!

The drive to the Stanleys' house was made in uncharacteristic silence between the A-shift paramedics. Johnny tried repeatedly to begin a conversation, but each time he asked a question, or made a statement, his partner merely grunted or glanced out the window. Whatever was going on at the DeSoto home was worse than he had originally thought. He slowed down his Rover, making the turn into the Stanley driveway, parking behind Chet's van.

"Well, hope we aren't gonna get bad news from Cap'n Stanley tonight," he mused, watching his partner reach for the door handle.

"Yea… The last twenty-four hours have been bad enough," Roy grumbled, unaware that he had spoken loud enough for his perceptive partner to hear his remarks.

Johnny inhaled deeply, lifting his nose in the air slightly. "Mmmmm, I can tell he's out back. Smells incredible," he said, leading the way through the privacy fence gate and into the back yard like a bloodhound tracking a scent.

On the deck, he saw his captain manning the grill while the other three members of the station stood around talking. Chet was holding a beer in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. Mike and Marco seemed to be engrossed in whatever tale the young lineman was telling. Johnny walked up the steps to the back deck, patting his captain on the shoulder.

"Good to see ya, Cap. Smells great."

"Gage, how've you been, Pal?" Hank asked, flipping the last burger, then closing the top of the grill.

"Pretty good, pretty good, managed to keep myself outta trouble while you've been gone, even got my hair cut for ya," he chuckled, searching his superior for any sign that he might be announcing his resignation later.

"Glad to hear it. Is your, ah, partner coming?" Hank asked, peering around behind his younger medic, in search of the man he had been worried about since his visit with Shep.

"Oh, yea, yea, he's…" Johnny looked over his shoulder. "He was right behind me when, uh…"

As if on cue, Roy walked around the side of the house. He had taken a moment to try to rid himself of any negativity related to his own home situation in order to focus on the issue ahead. "Hi, Cap." He waved, stepping up on the deck and extending his right hand.

"Good to see you, Roy." Hank looked around him at his crew, suddenly realizing that all eyes were on him. "It's, ah, good to see all of you again. Thanks for coming on such short notice." He reached for the platter Rebecca had left for the patties. "I believe these are ready," he announced, using a spatula to remove them from the grill. "Anyone hungry… Besides Gage?"

A round of snickers followed, breaking the ice between Hank and his crew. For the next hour, the six men devoured numerous burgers, chips, and drinks. The talk around the picnic table was light. Each man filling his captain in on different runs they had gone on during his absence as well as different antics happening around the station. One man, though, was noticeably silent.

"DeSoto? Want another burger? We've got plenty."

At the mention of his name, Roy's eyes quickly focused, moving in the direction of Hank's voice. "Oh, um, no thanks, Cap. I'm stuffed, but they were really good."

"Yea, Cap. Maybe you should assign yourself kitchen duty when you come back," Chet said, immediately silencing the group.

Hank looked around at the five men sitting with him on his deck. The sun was beginning to set, casting a healthy glow across each fireman's rugged face. He looked back down at his empty plate, fighting his emotions. The stinging behind his eyes, the tickling in the back of his throat, and his bouncing left knee all pointed to the fact that his body could not hide from the stress of the impending conversation. This was the moment he had been dreading all day. Now, he could put it off no longer. He coughed into his closed fist, then cleared his throat before speaking.

"Ahem, men…" He continued staring at the red and white checked tablecloth Rebecca had placed on the table, wishing she were here with him, once again lending him her strength and reassurance, but this was a task he had to accomplish alone. He had received Dr. Robertson's encouragement and blessing during their session only a few hours earlier. Truthfully, he knew he needed to do it; he didn't need a psychiatrist telling him what he already knew, but the reassurance was great to have anyway.

Hank swallowed another drink of his soda, quenching his thirst, and ensuring he stayed clear-headed for what was about to be said. "I know you're wondering why I invited you all over here, and I suppose I've put this off long enough. I've got some things that… That I need to say to you, and…" He inhaled a shaky breath then exhaled loudly. "I wanted to do it here… Now… Not at the station." He hesitated just a little too long, giving Chet an opening.

"Does that mean that… That you're gonna return to the station with us?"

Hank leaned forward slightly, then stood up, pulling his long legs out from beneath the picnic table. "Let's pull up a few chairs and sit back, enjoy the sunset. And, Chet... I'll let you know before you leave tonight, okay?"

The curly haired lineman merely nodded affirmatively, then joined the rest of his crew as they dragged various lawn chairs into somewhat of a semi-circle in the shadows created by the setting sun.

Each crew member felt the anxiety of their captain as he dragged his chair close to the railing. They could tell by his demeanor that he was not only nervous about what he had to say, but also seemed worried about their reactions to his message. His hands were shaking, his respiration rate rapid and shallow.

Johnny thought back to what Captain Shepherd had asked of the two A-shift paramedics, and fought the urge to grab Hank's wrist to check his pulse. Instead, he placed a friendly hand on his captain's shoulder, knowing that he was speaking for the group.

"Cap... Whatever it is that you need to tell us, just say it. It'll be a'right."

Hank flashed a quick smile at his junior paramedic, then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. More than anything, he wanted to look his men in the eyes, but at the moment, he simply didn't have the ability to do that and speak at the same time.

He cleared his throat once more, rubbed his open palms together, and began. "Fellas... I-I know that I've been really difficult to work with lately and..."

"No, Cap. You haven't been that bad. We all felt bad after Carrigan...,"

Hank held up his hand, silencing his younger lineman. "Please... I-I need to say this," he sputtered.

Chet felt the weight of Hank's unintended admonishment. He sank back in his seat, unsure of where the conversation was headed.

"After we lost Carrigan that night, I-I really blamed myself. I know you men knew that I wasn't acting like my normal self but... There was more to it. I felt guilty, not just for Kyle's death and his partner's injury... I-I felt...," his voice broke and he gratefully accepted the napkin that suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Thanks, Mike." He made a quick swipe across his face before continuing. "I know you men found the pills I'd been taking... Some to keep me awake because of the nightmares and more to help me with the anxiety I was living with... But, they made me do... Made me do...damn it," he swore. This was more difficult than he had imagined.

"We know about the Temazepam and the caffeine pills. We know about the nightmares. We get it, Cap. Really, we do." Marco spoke softly, trying to help his superior find his words.

"I know, and Marco... I'll start with you and Roy. You fellas came looking for me when I didn't make it to that little girl's birthday party."

"Corrie," Chet interjected, feeling a bit protective of the little girl, and wanting to make sure that her identity was established.

"Yea, Corrie Marks… Thanks, Chet." Hank continued. "I wanted to go, honest I did, but I just... I just couldn't. You tracked me down at Cinders and you..." He dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "God this is hard... I was... Hell, I'll just say it. I was drunk. You two made sure I got home safely and, and then helped 'Becca get me in bed, after I'd puked up my toenails. That was the first time you'd seen her with the, um, the bruises I gave her..."

"We know it was from a nightmare," Roy said. "You didn't do it on purpose."

"But you didn't know that at the time, Roy. You and Marco... You tried to help her... And me and, and I just... I treated you like... Like shit, both of you."

Marco and Roy exchanged looks, neither knowing what to say. Everything their captain was saying was absolutely true, even if neither one wanted to admit it.

"John, I... Later on, after 'Becca burned her hands... I called you, off duty, and you came over, several times, and dressed her wounds for us. I was abusing my position over you and…"

"I was helping out a friend, not fulfilling an order," Johnny corrected.

Hank swallowed the lump that had formed again in his throat. "Y-you didn't have to do that, but you did it anyway... And you, you never complained to me... Not once." He hesitated for a moment, looking at the long faces of the men surrounding him. His eyes landed on his second in command.

"Mike?"

Mike swirled the condensation on his beer bottle, looking up when he heard his name mentioned. "Mike, I put you in one helluva position... A spot no engineer should... Should ever be placed in by his captain. I was a constant smartass to you and... I-I knew that what I was saying and doing was wrong, but... But I did it anyway. You-ah, you're a good leader, Stoker. Going through my bag behind my back took balls of steel," he stopped when a chuckle made its way around the group.

"Well, it's true. I-I couldn't've done that if it'd been McConikee, back when I was his engineer. I'm not... I'm not that..."

"Balls-ie?" Mike snickered, pinching the bridge of his nose to hide his watery eyes.

"Yea, I don't have the... um, testicular fortitude that you do, Stoker."

Chet felt the heat rising around his shirt collar, and knew his neck and face were flaming red. His name was the only one that Hank hadn't called and he wasn't sure how to take it. The thought was short lived as a gruff, hitching voice broke through the silence.

"Kelly?"

"Y-yes sir," he responded.

"Chet, if anyone should hate me, it's... Well, I've given you more reason to..." He had no idea how to put into words what he was thinking. Rebecca's sweet voice continued to echo in his mind reminding him to speak from his heart.

"Chet, I've been harder on you than any of the others. I-I don't know why, but I-I just... I guess I used you as a scapegoat."

"And a punching bag," Chet shot back, his eyes popping wider, realizing he had spoken out loud.

"Yes...," Hank looked up at his young lineman. "And a punching bag, and as long as I live, I'll regret that moment."

"Aww, Cap... Ya didn't know. You were dreamin', that's all," Chet said, hoping to correct his earlier verbal faux pas.

"I know... But, Chet... That's no excuse for how I treated you after you returned from medical leave. I-I think back on that and I-I don't know why..." He sat up a little straighter, unable to complete the thought. He scrubbed his face with his open palm, unsure of what he was about to ask of his crew.

"It's a'right, Cap," Chet finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"Men, what I'm trying to say is that... That I..." Again, his voice betrayed him, but he forged ahead, forcing his vocal chords to work. "I'm s-so, so very sorry... Sorry for what... What I've done... Sorry for the position I... I put you in... Sorry for... Not being th-the captain, the leader, th-the man I sh-shoulda been," his shoulders began to shake, but still he pressed on.

"That night," he began, his mind taking him back in time to the night of the fatal backdraft. He could smell the smoke, hear the roaring sounds of the fire consuming the burning structure that seemed to have just devoured four men. He felt his chest tightening up, his breath became restricted, and panic nearly overtook him until he pressed his fingers into his forehead, forcing the reminders back into his memory, away from his current reality. "I w-was so af-afraid that I'd…" He swallowed, looking briefly at his second in command.

Mike gave a brief nod. He knew what Hank was about to say and he wanted the older man to know he was supporting him.

"I-I," he sniffed, finding his confession much more difficult than he had anticipated. "I thought I'd… I'd killed our linemen," he choked out. "Th-then, when I saw you, M-Marco, coming out with a man on your shoulders, a man much larger than Chet. I-I was re-relieved that… That I hadn't killed you both," he whispered, spitting out the words as if they were desperately clinging to his tongue, refusing to leave.

"That's… that's understandable," Marco interjected.

"But then," Hank continued. "Then, when I asked you about Kelly… You said that he was bringing Carrigan out and, and… I f-felt… relief and, um, horror at the same time. It's, ah," he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and fingers. "It's a st-strange feeling."

Understanding swept across Marco's face. He remembered his rushed conversation with Hank the night of the incident, remembered the look of horror on the older man's face.

"Fellas, I felt so guilty for so long about having those thoughts and…" He sniffled once more, returning the damp napkin to his face. "The night that you all… ganged up on me at Rampart," he allowed a brief smile, then returned to his story. "Mike stayed with me that night, and h-he knew. He knew I was feeling conflicted inside about it and that… He knew the truth."

"Because I had the same thoughts," Mike spoke up, filling in the missing words for his captain.

"I think we all did," Johnny joined in.

Hank gave a slow understanding nod. "Mike helped me understand that… I didn't trade Kyle's life for Chet's or Marco's. It was okay to feel happy that our linemen were safe while mourning the loss of our brother."

Chet stared into the nothingness in front of his chair. "I beat myself up pretty hard over that one too, Cap. I kept thinking that I should've done something else, got to him quicker or, hell, I don't know… Just done something else."

"Johnny and I wondered if there was anything we could've done differently too…" Roy allowed his statement to simply fade away; nothing more needed to be said at the moment.

"We all suffered that night, but… But, I let it nearly destroy m-my family,, m-my marriage…" He reached for another napkin from the stack within arm's reach of where he sat. "My wife h-had every reason to leave… Take the girls… You, men, 'specially you, Kelly… You really should've filed grievances against me… Mike, you should've reported me to Headquarters, but… But, none of that hap-pened," he inhaled a few hitching breaths, struggling to continue amid his tears. "I-I've gotten h-help for myself and, and 'Becca. I-I think the girls will be going to the next session and… I don't deserve it, but… but they've for-forgiven me."

No one in the small group dared look at anyone else. Eyes were reddening and beginning to sting, moisture pooling along the lower lids. Noses began to run, as evidenced by the number of times a napkin was quickly brought up to dry the moisture. Six hearts began to break, aching for the events of that night that they all wished they could change.

"Then, that last morning I was at 51's…" He looked back down at his hands remembering only sketches of the incident with the nightmare. "I don't remember everything that happened, but… You men, y-you acted professionally under difficult circumstances, and yet…" He looked up, finally able to really look into the eyes of the men who rushed to his aid that terrible morning. "You didn't treat me the way I deserved. You treated me like… Like," he looked back down at his lap, scrubbing his weary face.

"Like we would treat a family member," Mike spoke up. "Because that's what we were doing… We were treating our brother, and he deserved… And still deserves, the best we have to offer."

Hank continued to stare at the wooden deck, Mike's words seemed so undeserving, leaving him with the feeling that his body was going to melt and drip between the wooden slats, dissolving away forever. "I-I, um, I don't know if I-I'll be able t-to work as your c-captain ever again," he began, no longer trying to hide the tears that now freely flowed down his angular cheeks. "B-but, I just want t-to tell you that… That the f-five of you are…" he sniffled again. "Are th-the best damn firemen this county ha-has ever as-sembled and, I-I'm grateful to say th-that I'm… or was… you're cap-tain."

Not one man could fight back his emotions long enough to find his voice before Hank continued. Each one wanted to disagree with him, to explain that it was under his leadership that they had excelled, but he never gave them the chance. "Th-this is so h-hard t-to do, but can you e-ever for-give me for how I tr-treated y-you? Y-you don't hafta an-swer me now, but I-I just wanted you to know h-how I really feel… the truth. And, e-even if y-you can't work wi-with me," he began hiccupping as he struggled to get all the words out. "I-I'm hope-ing for yo-your for-forgiveness one d-day... Pl-please?" His voice faded to a near-silent whisper as he covered his face with both hands. There, on his back deck, surrounded by his crew, Hank wept bitterly. He wept for what he feared he'd lost, what he feared he'd never find again. He had let his crew down in the worst way possible. Now, he had bared his soul, leaving him feeling as naked and vulnerable as the day he was born. And he felt as helpless as a newborn, unable to provide for himself even the most basic of needs.

A single hand perched on top of his shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze. He felt as if his world was going to spin out of control, pulling him apart in the rotation. Then another hand, similar in size and strength, took hold of his other shoulder. A thinner hand, held the back of his neck, while a larger one rested lightly atop his dark tresses. Then, two hands rested on his knees, touching just enough to get his attention. He felt as if the breath of life was suddenly being sucked out of his lungs. These hands were not the hands of hate, but the hands of brothers, supportive, caring and uplifting. These were the hands of men who trusted him, and would take care of him. These were hands of rescue and healing, carrying him where he was unable to carry himself. These were the hands of brotherly love and enduring faithfulness, hands that would never leave him to suffer alone. These were truly hands of forgiveness.

"Cap?" Chet whispered, unable to speak any louder at the moment. He waited for his captain to open his eyes.

Hank knew then, that the hands that rested on his knees belonged to the young Irishman, the man he had so doggedly mistreated since that fateful night. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the young man kneeling in front of him.

"Cap," Chet gulped back the lump he was feeling. "I know that one day, we'll all go our separate ways. Some will get promoted and… Hell, who knows, I might even make engineer, one day. But, until that happens, I'm asking you to pl-please," he sniffled. "Don't break up th-the best damn crew in L. A. County. 'Cause, w-we ain't us without y-you," Chet wiped his face, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mike doing the same thing. "You don't have to-to even ask but, but I know you n-need to hear it. So, I-I for-give you, Cap. I do. It's over, okay?"

"So do I. I forgive you, too," Mike added.

"No hard feelings, Cap. I forgive ya." Johnny squeezed his captain's neck feeling a bit of the tension there releasing.

"I forgive you, Cap," Roy reassured the older man, keeping his hand resting on Hank's right shoulder.

Marco gave a slight pat to Hank's head. "I forgive you, also. All is forgiven, Cap. YOU are forgiven. Now…" Marco struggled to say what he knew to be true, but he pressed on. "Now… forgive yourself, please? Then come back to us, rested and restored."

E!

By the time nightfall arrived, the men of Hank's crew had all gone home. Rebecca and the girls had returned and Hank and Rebecca sat alone out on the back deck, staring into the darkness of the night sky. His eyes were red and swollen, but the cool night air brought relief to them, just as his confessions and request for forgiveness had brought relief to his burdened soul.

"Feeling better?" She asked softly, her thumb caressing the back of his hand as they held hands in the solitude of the evening.

"Yea, I-I do, 'Becca. I really wasn't sure, but… But, I feel much better, lighter somehow."

Rebecca Stanley smiled, even though her beloved couldn't see it in the darkness. "Then let tomorrow's shift be the first day of the rest of your long career with the department…. Even if it isn't at 51's."

Hank swallowed, his mouth still feeling a little dry from the raw emotions he had shared with his men earlier. "I plan to, sweetheart. But I have to be honest with you. I don't want to be anywhere else but 51's. Unless, of course, it's in your arms. I love you, 'Becca."

"I love you too, Hank."

E!

Across town, Hank's senior medic was getting ready for bed. He had already prepared his dufflebag for the upcoming shift, the following morning. He thought back over the events of the night, hoping that his captain would arrive for his shift feeling better than he had in weeks. He stuffed his extra underclothing down into the dufflebag, making sure he had at least three pairs of socks.

He looked up when their bedroom door squeaked open, his tired wife walking through it, sitting down heavily on the edge of their bed. "Roy?"

"Yea?" He asked, zipping up the bag and tossing it on the floor.

"I need to talk to you."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Roy looked at his wife with concern in his eyes. He was already emotionally drained from spending the evening on the deck of the Stanleys' house, hearing his captain bare his heart and ask for forgiveness. He truly didn't know how much more he could take without having his own emotional meltdown.

"Okay, uh, wanna talk now?"

Joanne nodded, taking a seat on the bed beside his duffle bag. She watched as Roy leaned his hips against the dresser, noting that for some reason, he didn't sit beside her as he normally would.

"I know, we've talked about my job, and I've promised you that it wouldn't interfere with our home life. I let that happen over the last week and I-I'm sorry, Roy. Truly, I'm sorry."

Roy once again, felt his heartstrings being tugged, this time by his wife's confession. "I know and, um, I haven't helped out as much as I could've around the house and I, ah, I'm sorry too. I'll work on that, on being a better husband."

Joanne felt the backs of her eyes stinging. She loved this man with all her heart. Standing up, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and placing her head on his shoulder. She felt him wrap his arms around the small of her back and kiss the top of her head lightly. His arms had always been her refuge, safe and secure.

After a moment of relishing the feel of his strong embrace, she pulled back and looked deeply into his crystal blue eyes. "Do you really mean that?"

Roy felt the icy stab of her words, but realized she didn't mean for them to be hurtful. "Yes, of course. What do you need me to do?"

Joanne sucked in the corner of her lower lip, hesitating just long enough to send a ripple of concern up Roy's spine. "Well, Caroline called me. She and Chet want to go out for dinner and a movie… Without Corrie," she grinned, mischievously. "You know what that means, and, well…"

Roy's first thought was that Chet and Caroline were going to be having a grand ole time in the bedroom. Then, he realized what Joanne was really asking. "In other words, I need to be prepared to babysit?"

"Just for a little while, Roy. I promise. See, Iris got a death call just before I left today. The family will be in tomorrow afternoon to pick out a casket arrangement, and then she needs my help on Friday to get everything ready for the funeral on Saturday. We'll be working until at least five o'clock. I didn't mean for this to happen, honest, Roy, I didn't, and if she had anyone else to help her…."

"Shhh," he crooned, realizing that she had been very nervous about asking him to do this. "So, I'll pick the kids up from school, and then swing by to pick up Corrie?"

"Um, actually, Chet and Caroline will drop her off on their way out. I was just hoping you'd pick the kids up from school and get dinner ready. I'll be home in time to do the whole bathing routine."

Roy cocked an eyebrow at her. "And you'll be here to handle the tears when Corrie wants her Momma at bedtime?"

Joanne blushed, Caroline had already explained that Corrie had never spent a night away from home, yet. This was truly going to be a test run. "Yes, of course," she smiled back, leaning upwards for a tentative kiss.

Roy couldn't resist the temptation of her warm moist lips on his, and he responded with a light peck, initially. Then, opening his mouth slightly, he allowed his tongue to search for an opening, needing to penetrate the barrier and unite with hers. Joanne quickly acquiesced, a soft moan escaping as his tongue found hers and began the familiar dance.

Slowly, methodically, Roy's hands released their clasp behind her back, resting briefly along her hips then rising upwards along her ribcage. The dress she wore was driving him crazy, separating him from that which he desired most, both physically and emotionally.

Joanne felt his hands snaking around her hips and up beneath her arms, further fanning the flames of her desire. She knew, by the way his passion was almost overwhelming him, that he needed this, even more than she did. For too long, she had denied him, tonight would be different.

Slowly, their lips parted, and she flashed him her green eyes. "Door locked?"

A wicked smile crossed his face. "I'll make sure," he croaked deeply, stepping backwards the couple of feet needed to reach the door knob. He couldn't take his eyes off her, as if breaking the eye contact would somehow cause them to lose the moment.

"Kids are in bed already, but I don't want to take any chances," she explained, watching as he flicked the lock with his thumb.

"Hell no," he said gruffly, once again wrapping his arms around his beloved, and moving in unison towards their bed.

Again, their lips met, this time with even more vigor. Roy's need was so great, he had to force himself to be gentle with her. His fingers began to fumble with the zipper on the back of her yellow dress, leaving the garment to fall on the floor like a pool of melted sunshine, beside her bare feet. Cupping the back of her neck with one hand, he perused her features searching for any signs that she might not want to be doing this, but all he saw in those hooded Irish eyes was the desire he had seen before, and he knew that she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. He deftly removed the barrette that held her shoulder-length hair away from her face, allowing the auburn tinted chestnut tresses to cascade across his forearm as his mouth once again found hers.

Later that evening, Roy lay breathless in the arms of his wife. He was filled with a sense of satiation he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"J-Jo, I, I don't know what to say, Baby. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Roy. You are my everything. I-I've been selfish since I took my job and… I'm sorry. I really am. I'm going to do better, sweetheart. In every way," she emphasized, leaving him no room to misinterpret what she meant. "Tonight was all about you." She stroked his face, still beautifully flushed bright pink from his orgasm. "I'll let you reciprocate later," she smiled, kissing him again on his forehead and continuing to hold him tightly, trailing her fingernails along his upper left arm as she cradled him to her breast.

Roy closed his eyes, allowing the deep sleep that so often followed their lovemaking to swoop down and claim him, taking away the last vestiges of consciousness. His breathing became deep and even. Beside him, his wife found her own path to slumber, knowing she had more than adequately met his physical needs. What she didn't know, was that her last words to him had taken away his feeling of emotional satisfaction, leaving behind a small ember of self-doubt.

E!

Hank stood in front of his wife's full-length mirror, staring at a man who had been missing for far too long. Was he worthy of the crisp fresh uniform he wore? He hoped so, but only time would tell. He pinned on his name tag then stood back once more. Everything was in place. Everything except the last item needed to complete the uniform. That precious metal object, he held tightly in the palm of his hand. He felt the weight of it, not in ounces, but the weight of the responsibility it represented. Citizens in his District of Los Angeles County were depending on him. There had been too many days in the past, when he had not given those tax payers the service they were rightfully due. However, today was the first day of the rest of his life. That's what his wife had told him earlier; god how he loved that woman. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he held his badge clenched in his right hand. Soon, he would pin it on his chest and wear it with pride, but for the moment, one final moment, he needed to feel it in his hand. He needed to hold it in his grip, and make the conscious decision to become the man deserving of the badge. He had returned to being the husband and father his family needed. He had reconciled with his men. Now, he was reconciling with the County of Los Angeles and with himself. With one final cleansing exhalation, using the breathing imagery Dr. Robertson had taught him, he exhaled all the dark smoky gray negativity from his life, and inhaled the polished fire engine red color that gave him strength, identity and purpose. Opening his eyes, he saw that the vision he had been searching for, for so many weeks, had indeed become a reality. He pinned on his badge, straightened his shoulders, held his head high, and, casting one final nod of approval at the man in the mirror, headed out the door. Captain Henry 'Hank' Stanley was back.

E!

The apparatus bay of the station was empty when the A-shift engineer first arrived for his shift on Thursday morning. The bright California sun reflected off the flag pole, drawing his eyes upwards. The American flag along with the California State flag were both flying proudly from their sentinel position near the concrete apron at the front of the station. He smiled as he turned his pick-up into the narrow driveway, knowing that the entire A-shift from the Station 51 family was going to be back together on this particular morning.

He parked in his usual spot, pausing for a moment to look at his captain's black sedan parked behind the station. "Atta boy, Cap," he whispered to himself, pulling his bag on his shoulder and heading for the locker room.

He positioned his bag in his locker, using the same positioning he had used since his first day on the job. Mike liked things in order, both in his personal life and in his professional one. Now, it seemed that Hank was back where he belonged, which fit very nicely into Mike's grand scheme of things. He double-checked his uniform, then pushed through the latrine door headed for the kitchen. He could smell the coffee and figured his superior had already started the pot percolating on top of the stove.

When he got to the kitchen, he found the room empty except for the station mascot, laying a little too near the edge of the brown leather couch. He chuckled to himself as he thought of what might happen if the tones sounded, envisioning the poor animal falling on the floor with a thud if he were to be suddenly startled by the loud noise. Still smiling, he reached into the sink drain for a clean mug, poured himself a cup of coffee, then turned back to the sleeping dog.

"Kinda risky behavior for you, isn't it, Henry?"

"No, Stoker… Black coffee isn't that risky, unless Chet makes it."

Mike turned around, alarmed by the sound of his captain's voice. He saw Hank's face light up with a bright smile, snickering at his own comment.

"At ease, Mike," Hank laughed, the sight of a wild-eyed Mike Stoker humored him. "I'm only kidding. I saw the dog… I'm just glad Chet isn't here to push the poor creature onto the floor just for kicks."

"Yea, he might not do that to a helpless animal, but if it was Gage lying there…"

Both men doubled over laughing at the thought of Chet sneaking up behind a sleeping Johnny, and pushing him from the couch to the floor while he slept.

"Chet's probably stupid enough to try this new fire department version of cow tipping, too," Mike beamed.

"Now that's a write-up I'd hate to have to tackle. Imagine how the department brass would enjoy reading that reprimand," Hank continued to laugh, incessantly.

Both men pulled out a chair, Mike handing his cup to Hank and then pouring himself another.

"Oooh, Mike… It feels so good to laugh, again."

Mike hesitated, unsure of how much to say. Finally, he decided to say what he was thinking. "It's ah, it's good to have you back, sir. And laughing is always good. Feels like everything's right with the universe."

Both men looked up as their senior paramedic pushed his way into the kitchen, making a bee line for the coffee pot.

"Morning, Roy."

"Hey, Mike, Cap," Roy spoke without looking at either of them. He poured his cup, then headed for the couch, pushing Henry out of the middle and towards one end. The dog seemed unbothered by the intrusion, rolling back onto his side and continuing to snooze. Roy crossed an ankle over the opposite knee and reached for the morning paper.

Hank allowed his gaze to meet that of his engineer. "You ah, you were saying, Mike?"

The normally quiet engineer, grimaced slightly. He knew what Hank meant by the statement, even though he didn't know what was happening with Roy DeSoto. "I'm thinking, I might have spoken a little too early, Cap," he said, bobbing a slight nod in the direction of the dayroom.

Twenty-five minutes later, the five crew members stood in a straight line for roll call. Chet's face was absolutely beaming, unable to hide the happiness he was feeling about having his crew back together, and the excitement of knowing that when this shift was over, he was going to spend some quality time with his favorite lady friend. He held his shoulders at attention, but the smug grin, resembling drunken euphoria, remained plastered beneath his bushy mustache.

"Kelly?"

"Yes, sir, Cap?"

"What are you up to?" Hank narrowed his eyes at the younger man, suspiciously, eager to find out what was behind the smile. "You've done something, haven't you?"

"Oh, no, Cap, honest."

"MmmHmm," he groaned with sarcasm. "If I find my bed short-sheeted, or a water bomb in my locker, or flour in my hat, or any one of a dozen other things that the Phantom is capable of, then you will regret it. Do I make myself clear?" Hank tried to be serious, but he was overjoyed at being back to his normal shift, at least as normal as the A-shift at 51's could be. He couldn't hold his face straight as he stood in front of the giddy young man.

"I'm just in a good mood, that's all," Chet tried to explain.

"He's taking Caroline out for a private dinner tomorrow night," Marco explained, elbowing his friend.

Hank scrubbed his face with his hand, a knowing feeling wrapping around him. "So, you haven't been here long enough this morning to be guilty of committing any sins, yet?"

"Nope," Johnny grinned, hands shoved deep into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "But he's sure hopin' to commit a few tomorrow night," the thin paramedic spat out. Chet had filled them all in on his date night plans with Caroline, while they were changing into their uniforms. Well, most of his plans anyway. Some conclusions, the men just jumped to on their own.

"You can go with me to confession on Saturday, Chet," Marco offered, smiling.

"Now wait just a minute," Chet said, looking from side to side at his friends. "I don't need to confess anything. I happen to be a perfect gentleman, for your information, Gage. And Cap, I'll keep the Phantom restrained for this shift."

"Is that what you call it?" Johnny asked, suggestively waggling his eyebrows.

"Where're you gonna keep the Phantom tomorrow night?" Mike joined in the fun.

"C'mon, fellas…" Normally, Chet could easily take the good-natured ribbing his crew mates threw at him, but this was Caroline, and he felt differently about her. "Fellas,…"

"Don't let 'im go out and play without a raincoat, Amigo." Marco added, knowing that Chet would catch the sexual innuendo.

"Yea, stop by the drugstore and grab a box of slickers," Johnny added.

"Gage!" Chet nearly shouted, feeling the pressure of the group ganging up on him again.

"Yea, protection is very important for your little friend," Marco piped up, being unusually brazen with his buddies, at his partner's expense.

"Little is right," Johnny scoffed back.

"That's not what your girlfriend said," Chet sneered, ducking the slap on the back of his head that he knew was coming from the taller man.

"Don't talk about my girlfriend," Johnny warned.

"Then don't talk about my…"

"Alright, enough, you twits!" Hank said loudly, interrupting his young lineman before the conversation got too far out of control.

"Chore assignments are as follows, Kelly – dorms, Marco – kitchen, Stoker – dayroom, Gage – latrines, DeSoto – apparatus bay, my office first though, pal. Alright, let's have a safe shift."

Roy seemed to be suddenly jolted back to reality. His captain had asked to speak to him in the captain's office. Had he done something wrong? He couldn't remember doing anything wrong. As the others meandered around, beginning their assignments, Roy trudged behind his captain into the office.

"Shut the door, will ya, pal?" Hank ordered, pulling out the chair to his desk while waiting for his senior paramedic to take a chair next to him.

"Is-is something wrong, Cap?" Roy asked, nervously.

"No-no… I just wanted to ask you the same question. The, uh, the guys were having a little fun with Chet and it isn't like you not to join in."

Roy searched his superior's face, realizing that the man who sat at the desk seemed a bit older and wiser than the last time he was here. He dropped his eyes down to the cold gray floor, contemplating his answer. Then, deciding not to divulge anything about his seemingly unimportant private life, he raised his blue eyes back up.

"No, sir. Everything's fine."

Hank studied him for a moment, not completely believing Roy, and yet having nothing more than Captain Shepherd's recent observations to go on. "Alright, well… I'm back and I'm here for you… For all you men, if you need me for anything. So, ah, don't hesitate to call on me, okay?"

"I will," Roy said, jumping to his feet. "Is-is that all, Cap?"

"Yes, dismissed."

Hank watched as Roy hung his head, walking swiftly out the office door. He was about to spin his chair around to face his desk, when the klaxons sounded.

_Station 51, Station 127, Truck 69…_

Hank jumped into gear, jogging to the radio to acknowledge the call and write down the address. Unfortunately, it was an address that sent chills up the spine of every man in every station being toned out across the area. As they hurriedly took their places in their respective vehicles, silent prayers were sent heavenward, even from those with no religious affiliation. Turnouts were donned, chin straps tightened, and it was time for a gut check, especially for the man who was returning for his first shift after a long absence. According to the information given, this was no false alarm. Sam Lanier had relayed that multiple callers had seen smoke and flames escaping from the windows of one of the largest retirement homes in the area.

"KMG-365," Hank acknowledged, then joined his men, taking his seat just as the squad pulled out turning right, Mike following close behind.

E!

To the untrained observer looking from above, the scene of chaos would have resembled a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. Lines were stretched, crossing in a well-organized manner with little meaning to bystanders, but to Hank and his men, it all made perfect sense. Squads, trucks and engines were immersed along the way, some connecting hoses and hydrants to other vehicles and each other. A sea of humanity, some on gurneys, some in wheelchairs and a few on walkers, were lined up in the clearing, well away from the structure, and out of the way of the hustling firemen. Ambulances began arriving, carrying the most seriously ill residents to receiving hospitals and a few others to vacant beds in a nearby nursing home.

"Alright, fellas," Hank gathered his men around. "Most everyone is accounted for, but we still need to do a room by room search. The fire started in the laundry room in the south wing. Station 127 is there. We're to start on this end," he pointed to the Northern entrance. "And start on the third floor, making our way down until we've covered this entire wing. Station 110 will be starting on the first floor and moving up. Keep your HT's close by and…" he hesitated, waiting for the memory of that terrible night and the explosion that changed him forever. "And if the call comes to evacuate… Get your assess outta there!"

The four men nodded, pulling on their air tanks. The significance of this run was not lost on anyone. Neither was it lost on the engineer who stood by helplessly, watching the entire event unfold. He kept a close eye on his captain as the morning wore on. Gage and DeSoto were the first to return to replace their air tanks and restock on chalk. Mike pulled two additional tanks from the back of the squad, knowing that Lopez and Kelly would need to replace theirs very soon. One man from 110's was overcome by heat exhaustion, and was brought out flanked by Chet and Marco. Mike assisted him to the ground, administering oxygen and helping him cool down until one of the paramedics from 36's could leave the triage area to check him out.

By the time overhaul began, Hank felt like he had been holding his breath for an eternity. But, the disaster that everyone feared, had been averted. No lives were lost and only one man needed to be treated for minor burns. A couple inhaled too much smoke and one firefighter suffered from heat exhaustion. Still, as Roy and Mike backed their rigs into the apparatus bay a little after noon, Hank allowed himself to sink into his seat and exhale. There had been no flashbacks, no explosions, no backdrafts, and most importantly, no deaths – civilian or departmental. He had just logged his first successful run after returning to his post as captain of his crew, without incident, and the feeling was exhilarating.

Now, if he could only be as successful in pulling his senior medic out of the quagmire into which he seemed to be slowly sinking…

A/N: This chapter was edited for adult content. Unedited version is posted at AO3.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Joanne stood in front of the stove, watching the hotdog wieners bobbing up and down within the tiny bubbles boiling up around them. She waited a few extra minutes, making sure they were done, then turned off the gas stove. There was a distinct hissing sound that remained after the flame was extinguished.

"Uh-oh," she groaned.

She double-checked the knobs on the stove, making sure the gas was completely turned off. The sound lingered. Searching for the source of the noise, she pulled open the cabinet doors, peering beneath the sink. She found nothing out of order.

"Chris?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Did you leave the water running outside when you watered my flowers?" She asked, opening up the package of hotdog buns.

"I don't think so."

"Go check for me, then come on and eat your dinner," Joanne instructed, placing a steaming wiener inside the bun in her hands. She continued preparing dinner for herself and the children, placing the plates on the table, just as her son returned through the back door.

"The water isn't on, but I can hear something spraying underneath the house."

Joanne rolled her eyes, blowing a stray tuft of hair off her forehead. "Alright, call your sister in here, and the two of you eat while I go see what's going on," she instructed, exasperatedly.

E!

Behind the station, Roy leaned against the back wall watching his partner shoot free throws. The steady thumping sound of the ball being dribbled before each shot, echoed off the bricks surrounding the small enclosed parking lot.

Johnny cut his eyes at his somber-faced partner for the third time in as many minutes. He missed his shot, hustling to make the rebound then dribbling in a small circle, sinking a lay-up. The ball rolled across the makeshift court and Johnny loped over to the edge of the wall to retrieve it, stopping near the place where Roy stood. He propped the basketball on his hip and looked his partner in the eye.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Roy was taken aback by his friend's sudden question. "Um, about what?"

"Whatever it is that's been eatin' you up lately."

Roy wasn't comfortable discussing his most intimate thoughts regarding his wife, not even with his best friend. He had to think quickly to divert the question. "I'm fine, but I do have a question for you."

"A'right, shoot," Johnny said, trying to spin the basketball on his middle finger, failing miserably.

"This morning, at roll call… You never told me you had a girlfriend," Roy tried to smile.

"Aww, I was just bullshittin' Chet," Johnny chuckled, stepping back a couple of steps then sending a bounce pass to his partner.

"Bullshitting a bullshitter, huh?"

Johnny was about to answer when the klaxons sounded, the conversation temporarily forgotten as the duo left the basketball abandoned against the back wall, and headed out on their run.

E!

Joanne reached inside the hall closet, retrieving a flashlight and a blanket. Walking past her children who were sitting at the dinner table, she warned them against horse playing while they ate their dinner. Having a paramedic husband, she had learned to be extra careful around choking hazards with children, especially when it came to hotdogs.

"Okay, I'm going to see if I can find out where this noise is coming from. The two of you eat your hotdogs in peace."

"Yes, Mom."

"Okay, Mommy," Jennifer stated, a small mustard smudge decorating the corner of her mouth.

"Wipe your mouth, Jen," she said, opening the back door and heading for the small doorway near the back deck, where she could access the crawl space.

Joanne spread the blanket down on the ground to protect her knees, sliding the small bolt to the side and opening the door. The noise grew louder as the cool rush of air made its way from beneath the house, hitting her in the face and neck. She clicked on the flashlight, making a sweeping motion across the pipes. There, in the far corner, there was a pipe spraying water beneath the guest bathroom.

"Damn it," she cursed, quietly.

The dampness indicated that the pipe had been spraying for quite some time. She pulled herself back out from beneath the house, leaving the blanket in place, and returned inside contemplating her next move.

She stepped inside the kitchen, seeing that Jennifer had finished eating. "Jennifer, go ahead and get your bath, sweetie. I've got to turn off the water to the house in a few minutes. We have a leaky pipe."

"I don't have to take one?" Chris asked hopefully, diving into his second hotdog. At the age of ten years, his appetite was beginning to rival that of his Uncle Johnny.

"No, Chris, you still have to take a bath. But, I need for you to make it quick," Joanne explained, pulling the phone book from beneath the black rotary dial telephone in the living room. Part of her wanted to call Roy at the station, but she didn't want him to worry and there really wasn't anything he could do while he was on duty, anyway.

Joanne scanned through the pages, stopping when a name caught her attention. Coulter Plumbing was owned by one of their neighbors, Mr. Lane Coulter. She listened for the water to begin running in the kids' bathroom, needing to make sure that Jennifer was following her instructions, then began to dial the number.

"Hello?"

"May I speak to Mr. Lane Coulter, please? This is Mrs. Roy DeSoto."

Half an hour later, both children were bathed and finishing their homework, while Joanne gathered up the flashlight and a pair of pliers, heading to the water connection near the street. Roy had taught her how to turn off the water to the house, in case there was a leak while he was on shift. Thankfully, that had only happened once before. Fortunately, it had occurred early one morning just before Roy got home from his shift, but he had been able to repair it quickly, as soon as he got home. This particular leak couldn't wait that long. She needed to stop the water loss while she waited for repairs.

Satisfied that she had closed off the water line, she returned to her house to wait for Mr. Coulter. She had just tucked Jennifer in bed, at nearly nine o'clock, when a knock on the door heralded the plumber's arrival. Lane Coulter had a loud voice, and his appearance was generally unkempt. His sagging dirty jeans were being weighed down by several tools attached to his belt, allowing his obese belly to fall over the waistband of his jeans, as they slipped a little too low. He reached around his ample sides, pulling his jeans up, while a half-smoked cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, amid his scruffy face. In spite of the first impression he made on his new customer, she found him to be very polite, and she appreciated that he had been willing to try to repair their pipe at this late hour.

"I'm Lane Coulter. This is the DeSoto residence, right?" He asked, hoping to remove the concerned look he saw on Joanne's face.

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Roy DeSoto, please come in," she offered, stepping aside to allow the sluggish man to enter her home.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"I've turned off the water, but I can show you which one has the leak," Joanne explained, leading the overweight plumber through their house. With a swipe of her hand, she turned on the lights on the back deck, then walked swiftly to the place where she had left the blanket.

"Okay, I've got a flashlight," she said, clicking on the small black instrument. "Everything's wet under here, but let me point the light on the place where the water was spraying out. Can you see over me?" She asked, crouching down on all fours and sticking her head through the door of the crawl space once more.

"Yes, ma'am. Just slide a little to the left, there... Okay, I can see it now," he grunted, attempting to shift his large frame around Joanne's smaller one. "Where's the leak?"

Joanne aimed the beam of light at one particular spot. "Right there, in the elbow of that pipe."

"It was spraying out of the joint? Where the two pipes connect?"

"That's right," she agreed.

"Well, hopefully, it's just that the pipe is a little loose, and I can fix it up real quick." He struggled to remove his head out from the crawl space. "Just leave me and my tools here for a few minutes, and I'll see if I can stop that leak for you," he offered, getting out of the way so that Joanne could stand back up.

"Sounds great, Mr. Coulter." Joanne extricated herself from the cramped space, stretching her tired back as she stood up. The sight she saw nearly turned her stomach. While Lane remained in his crouching position, his pants had begun to work their way down his hips, exposing more of his backside than Joanne wanted to see.

She rolled her eyes, trying to look anywhere other than at the cleft of his buttocks peeking out of his jeans. The shadows cast from the deck lighting did nothing to hide his exposure. "I'll be inside, if you need anything," she called out, scurrying back onto the deck and into the house, thankful that her children were not present for the plumber's impromptu peep show.

Inside her room, the youngest member of the DeSoto family grinned mischievously, using one hand to cover her giggling mouth, and the other to snuggle with the teddy bear she cradled in her arms. The booming voice of the plumber had awakened her from her sleep, and, being a curious child, she had gotten out of bed and stepped closer to the window, seeking the source of the noise. Unfortunately, she had seen the same sight her mother had seen moments before, the semi-naked buttocks of one very large plumber, inadvertently aimed in her direction.

When she heard her mother return inside, she quickly crawled back into her bed, and pretended to be asleep, just in case her mother checked. Joanne, however, was too tired to walk all the way to the bedroom to check on her daughter.

"Chris, it's bedtime, honey."

"Aww, Mom. Just a little longer?"

"Not tonight, got to go to school tomorrow. You can stay up later tomorrow night. Corrie will be staying with us."

"Ugh! Girls…," he shrugged his shoulders as he wandered to his bedroom, already dreading the silliness he knew would be coming the following night.

The house was quiet, except for the tinkering noises coming from underneath, so Joanne relaxed in her black recliner, raised her aching feet, and waited for Mr. Coulter to finish the job. Suddenly, she was startled by the gurgling sound coming from the kitchen, and realized that she must have fallen asleep because the noise was proof that Mr. Coulter had just turned the water back on. Several minutes later, he walked in from the back deck, and Joanne met him at the kitchen counter.

"Was it bad?"

"Oh, no ma'am, it was an easy fix. I let the water run for a few minutes and it was dry as a bone," he stated tiredly, clicking his pen and pulling out his receipt book.

Joanne graciously accepted the pink copy of the bill, reaching for her purse and removing the cash necessary for payment. Thankfully, she had cashed her paycheck earlier. She counted out the bills then passed them into his grimy hands.

"Thank you, ma'am." He folded them up, placing them into his shirt pocket. "I'll gather up my tools and then I'll be on my way. Call me again, if you need anything."

"Thank you, Mr. Coulter," Joanne said with a polite smile as she ushered him to the door. She was anxious for her own relaxing bath, and a few hours of sound sleep.

Just as he was exiting the doorway, he turned back around to face her. "Oh, and Mrs. DeSoto?"

"Yes?"

"Isn't your husband a fireman?"

"Yes, that's right," she responded.

"Please tell him how much I appreciate the work he does keeping the rest of us safe. My brother is a fireman back East, and... Well, I know how hard it can be. Makes me appreciate the fine men from our local department."

Joanne leaned against the door, a sense of pride sweeping over her. "I'll do that. Thank you."

Quickly, she cleaned up the kitchen, tossing out the few bites of Chris' hotdog that he hadn't eaten. She placed the plumbing receipt inside the drawer near the phone, then returned the phone book to its usual location. With one final visual sweep, she determined that the kitchen was in order. She turned off the lights, padding up the stairway ready for a few moments of respite of her own soaking in a long hot bath.

E!

The wake-up tones sounded, jarring the men out of a deep slumber. There had been only one night-time run for a minor traffic accident. Otherwise, the men were well-rested and eager to start their time off. One man in particular, seemed much more energetic than the rest. He pulled his suspenders onto his shoulders then headed for the latrine to brush his teeth and tame his unruly curly dark hair.

Mike stood quietly at the counter, making the first pot of coffee for the crew. Roy trudged in, followed closely by Marco. Johnny yawned widely, as he nearly stumbled into the kitchen.

"Good morning, fellas," called the chipper voice of Chet Kelly. His hair had been neatly combed, and his eyes were a clear bright blue.

"What's 'a matter with you?"

"Nothin', Gage. It's just a fine mornin' to be alive, don'tcha think?" Chet reached for a mug, rocking back on his heels as he waited for the coffee to finish percolating.

Johnny's face took on the look of being in a curious drunken stupor. "Huh? What kinda drugs are you takin'?"

Marco slapped Johnny on the back. "He's living on love, John… Remember?"

Johnny's mouth continued hanging open slightly, until his brain registered Marco's comment. "Oooh, oh yea, yea. The date with Caroline's tonight."

"Unchaperoned," Mike said with a wink.

Roy opened his mouth to complain about babysitting, then thought better of it. Caroline and Chet deserved to have a nice night on the town without a three year old toddler in tow. "Treat her right, Chet," he said, instead of the sarcastic response he had been considering.

"Oh, I will, I will. I'm taking her to that new Italian place over on PCH."

"What about a peach?" Hank asked, slipping through the kitchen door just in time to hear Chet's last few syllables.

Mike snickered, joining the round of laughter at his superior's comment, grateful that this shift had seemed to go so well for the older man. "No, Chet's taking his girl out to dinner at a new place on the Pacific Coast Highway – PCH."

Hank couldn't help but laugh at himself, and it felt really good. "Geez, I could've sworn you said something about a peach," he smiled, reaching for the coffee pot that had just finished perking. "Now, ah, don't come back in here looking like John did on that day Caroline and Corrie stopped by."

Johnny unconsciously covered his neck with a thin hand. "Cap… I swear, that was a line of duty accident, nothin' more," he defended, remembering the bite mark he had received from an incoherent patient.

"You mean, you really didn't try to get fresh with a crocodile?" Hank's comment brought another round of laughter from the men, all of them remembering the serious bite mark Johnny had received while working an over-time shift at a different station.

"No, sir… I prefer girls with, ah, slightly softer skin," he retorted, good-naturedly.

Hank continued to listen to the light conversation going on around the kitchen, noticing that once again, Roy failed to join in. He saw Johnny looking worriedly at his partner a couple of times, and filed that note away for the moment. He needed to have a long talk with his junior paramedic, very soon.

One by one, the guys were replaced by their B-shift counterparts, each one filing out of the building and heading in their separate directions.

"Hey, Amigo?"

"Yea, man?" Chet responded, turning sideways in the parking lot, facing his approaching partner.

Marco slapped his friend on the back, wrapping his arm around the shorter man's shoulder as they walked to their cars. "I really do hope you two have a nice time."

Chet smiled warmly at the older man. "Thanks, Marco. I-I hope we do, too. She's, um… Well, she's really something special," he blushed.

Hank waited for Roy to leave, then quickly made his way to the locker room. He needed to catch Gage before he left. He pushed open the door, seeing Johnny closing his locker. "John, you, ah… You got a couple of minutes?"

"Sure, Cap," he answered, nervously reliving each run from the previous shift as he followed his captain around the vehicles and into the captain's office.

B-shift was just getting ready for roll call so the office would give them some privacy. Hank didn't want the others to overhear the conversation. He just hoped Johnny would shed some light on what was happening with his partner.

"Take a seat, John. I won't keep you but a minute."

Johnny gulped, dropping his bag beside his feet as he sat backwards in the wooden chair. "D-did I do somethin' wrong?"

Hank felt badly for a moment, giving his man a sad smile. "No, of course not. I didn't mean to alarm you," he began.

"Whew! I was just tryin' to figure out what I had screwed up, and I couldn't think of anything, but we don't get called into…"

Hank held up his hand, stopping the younger man's nervous habit of ranting. "John, if you had made a mistake, I would've told you. This isn't even about you, okay?"

Johnny arched an eyebrow at his superior. "Oh?"

"It's about Roy; is there something going on with him that I need to know about?" Hank tossed the question out, waiting to see what kind of a response he got back.

"Oh, uh, well see, I mean…" Johnny tried to lick his lips, his mouth suddenly very dry, realizing that he had no good answer for his captain. "I honestly don't know, Cap. He's acting all depressed about something, but when I tried to talk to him, he just changed the subject."

Hank steepled his fingers in front of his face, leaning back in his desk chair. "When was this?"

"Yesterday, between runs."

"Any ideas? How long has he been like this?" Hank asked, concern filling his voice.

"A few weeks now. And no, sir… I don't know what it's about. The only time he gets like this is when he and Jo have a disagreement about something. But, it's never lasted this long. He usually talks about it, you know, gets it off his chest. This time he's just… Silent."

"Alright, I won't keep you. Just, keep an eye on him, will ya? I'm worried about him. Oh," he continued, watching Johnny swing his long leg over the chair and return the chair to its proper position. "If there's anything I can do, please let me know. Day or night, okay?"

Johnny reached for his bag, offering Hank an affirmative nod. He didn't know exactly how to respond to the request. Would he betray Roy's confidence, that is, if the man ever talked openly about what was happening? If so, was Captain Stanley the right person with whom to share the information? He stepped out into the apparatus bay, then quickly executed a 180 degree turn. He stepped back into the open doorway, waiting for his superior to sense his presence.

Hank heard the soft footfalls stop abruptly at the office door. He quickly looked into the serious chocolate eyes of his younger paramedic. "Yes?"

"I… Well," John rubbed his nose, nervously. "I just wanted to say… Welcome back, Cap. This place hasn't been the same without ya."

Hank felt almost teary as the warmth spread across his heart. His young crew member had spoken with a voice of honesty, and Hank appreciated the genuine heart-felt words, more than Johnny would ever know. "Thank you, John. It's good to be back home, again."

No other words were spoken between mentor and mentee, none were needed. Johnny walked out the rear bay door of the station, tossing his duffle bag into the back of his Rover, then quickly made his way through the streets of Carson, heading for his apartment. His mind felt relief upon hearing Hank's reference to Station 51 as being home, now Johnny wondered how he might be able to reach his brooding partner.

E!

Chet made the turn into his apartment complex, parking his van in his usual spot. He smiled briefly when he passed Caroline's ground floor apartment, then slowly, made his way up the stairs. All the way home, he had been contemplating what his shift mates had talked about the previous morning. He didn't want to make any assumptions about his night with Caroline, they had never actually discussed intimacy yet, but he also didn't want to be caught unprepared. He slipped his key into the lock, walking into his apartment. He dropped his bag down on his sofa and headed for the refrigerator, his stomach needing something more filling than black coffee. Somewhere between drinking his orange juice, and smearing jelly on his toast, he decided to go ahead and be prepared for whatever the night might hold for them. After breakfast, he headed for the corner drug store to make a purchase he had not made in a very long time.

E!

Roy shifted his gold Porsche into gear, turning left when the traffic signal turned green. The sign for The Pourhouse came into view. His mind immediately went back to the pile of cereal bowls he had become accustomed to seeing since Joanne started working outside of their home, and he decided to eat breakfast at the diner, instead.

Slipping his keys into his pocket, he pushed open the glass door, hearing the familiar jingling bell that announced the arrival of a new customer.

Amy looked up, seeing one of her favorite breakfast customers, and immediately poured him a cup of coffee. She walked over to his table and set the steaming brew down in front of him.

"Dining alone this morning?" She asked, removing the pencil from behind her ear.

"Yea, just me."

"The usual?"

"You know me too well, Amy," he said, trying to smile.

The waitress seized the opportunity, and plunged forward, knowing it was none of her business. "Joanne's kitchen must be on strike," she snickered.

Roy cupped his hands around the steaming white cup in front of him. He spoke without ever looking up. "Something like that… She's working, now." He lifted the cup to his lips, blowing across the hot black liquid.

"Well, lots of women have to work these days, so don't hold it against her," Amy said, jotting down his order. She patted him on the back as she turned and walked away, having no idea just how painful her words had been to his soul.

Roy stared at his coffee. Was that what everyone thought? That Joanne HAD to work? Amy made it sound as if he couldn't make enough money to support his family; did Joanne feel that way, too? She never said so, but he really hadn't been working as much over time lately as he had when the children were younger. He rubbed a worried hand across his brow, self-doubt filling his anxious heart. Had he somehow let his family down? Sure, lots of women were working these days, but was this Joanne's choice, or was it a necessity?

Amy stood behind the counter, drying coffee cups while Gretchen made a fresh pot of coffee for the breakfast crowd. "Well, now I know why Roy has had such a long face the last few times he's been in here."

Gretchen turned to face her mentor, her blonde ponytail swishing behind her. "Oh? What's going on?"

"Joanne's joined the rest of us working gals. I think it's really bothering him that his wife has to work, now," she offered, stacking the cups neatly beneath the counter.

"Well, if money is so tight around their house, then why does he eat out so much?" Gretchen asked.

"Because breakfast is cheap," Amy responded. "Besides, a lot of times, the firemen need to unwind after a stressful shift. If Joanne isn't there to talk to, maybe he needs us to be his sounding board."

"Good point," the younger woman acknowledged, thinking back to how many folks had come into the diner needing to have a friendly ear to listen to their stories for a few minutes. She looked at the clock, then smiled tiredly. "Well, I'm outta here. See you tomorrow."

"Bye," Amy called out just as the bell dinged indicating that she had an order up.

Gretchen clocked out, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door. She smiled at the fireman as she passed by. "Enjoy your breakfast," she called out, flashing him her biggest smile, hoping to cheer him up.

Roy merely nodded his head in gratitude, as his plate was placed in front of him.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"Oh, no thanks, Amy," he commented, placing a napkin in his lap and picking up his silverware. "This looks delicious."

"Enjoy and, ah, let me know if you need anything."

Twenty minutes later, Roy paid his bill, leaving a generous tip for his favorite waitress, and walked back to his car. He had driven about six blocks when he saw a young woman stumble on the uneven sidewalk. As she slowly picked herself up, he recognized the uniform and pulled to a stop just ahead of her.

"Are you alright?"

Gretchen brushed off her knees and gathered up her purse, embarrassment coloring her face. She heard the soft-spoken voice coming from the street and turned to face the concerned man. "Yes, just clumsy."

Roy noticed the bleeding on the heels of her hands and knew she must be in pain, even though she was trying to hide it. "You're hurt," he said, stepping out of the car and walking in her direction.

"I'll be okay," she muttered. "Damn uneven sidewalks."

The paramedic in him wanted to help her. "Do you live close by?"

"A few more blocks away," she said, wincing as she inspected her torn and bleeding hands.

"Why don't I take you home and dress those for you. Don't want to get an infection," Roy offered with kindness in his voice.

Gretchen remembered how kind this man's partner had been a few days earlier, and felt certain she could trust him as well. "I'd, ah, I'd really appreciate it… If you have time and don't mind, that is."

"Of course I don't mind; come on, let me help you to the car," he said, gently grabbing her elbow to steady her and opening the door for her.

"Just ahead, second light, take a right and it's the second building on the left," she instructed.

Roy looked behind him, before pulling out into traffic, failing to recognize the VW van fifty yards behind him, as he drove Gretchen homeward, her blonde ponytail blowing in the wind.

E!

A/N: Thank you for reading and a special thank you to all those who leave feedback. I appreciate you.


	7. Chapter 7

Warning: Sexual situations, but I've kept it at the teen rating.

Chapter 7

Roy followed the directions given to him by Gretchen, and soon the two of them pulled up in front of her apartment building.

"I'll be happy to dress those wounds for you," he offered, stepping around the car and opening her door.

She really didn't want him to see her apartment and the lack of medical supplies she owned. After all, he was a married man so it didn't feel right to have him alone with her in the privacy of her home. "Oh, you don't have to do that; you've been so nice to me already. I really do appreciate you for giving me a ride home. You and your partner are really nice men."

Roy smiled briefly at the comment. "You're welcome, and… We are nice guys. Anytime you need a ride home, just let us know. It's kind of a long walk. I'm sure Johnny wouldn't mind giving a pretty lady a lift."

Gretchen blushed at the compliment, choosing not to acknowledge it. "Oh, he did, the other day. When that storm came through, he gave me a ride home," she explained, smiling.

Roy chuckled. Of course, his partner never missed the opportunity to aid a damsel in distress. "At least let me take a look at your hands. You don't want to risk an infection. I've got a first aid kit in the back of my car. Hang on."

At the end of the street, Chet Kelly pulled into the parking lot of the corner drug store. He couldn't help but look down the street, having followed the gold Porsche as it made the turn at the traffic light earlier. There, he saw Roy DeSoto, holding the hand of a pretty blonde-haired woman wearing a waitress uniform, obviously not his wife. "What the hell?" He mumbled to himself.

Roy used an antiseptic wipe to clean the wounds then applied an antibiotic cream, placing a large Band-aid on each hand. He noticed the indentation along her ring finger on her left hand, but chose not to mention it. She had obviously worn a ring on that finger for a long time, only recently removing it. Perhaps that was what Amy meant when she had told Roy and Johnny that Gretchen was getting back on her feet. She was probably a recent divorcee.

"Alright, if you see any redness or drainage, you really should see a doctor. That could be a sign of infection."

"I understand," she said with a smile. She looked into his blue eyes, still feeling the warmth of his hands where he had touched her. "I appreciate it, the ride and the bandages," she explained.

"You're welcome," Roy said, returning the first aid kit to the trunk of his car. "I'll see you around, Gretchen."

"See ya," she waved, turning and walking inside the apartment building.

Down the street, Chet waited for Roy to drive away, then got out of his van and walked inside the store. He had other things to think about than what Roy DeSoto was doing on his off time.

E!

Hank walked into his house, into the welcoming arms of his wife.

"Good morning, how'd it go?" Rebecca asked, concern edging her voice.

Hank exhaled loudly. "Actually, better than I thought. I'm glad to get it behind me though… And glad to be back home with you," he added, kissing her softly on the lips.

After a few moments, Rebecca pulled back, smiling at her husband. "Dr. Robertson's office called. He has a crisis case he's working with this morning. He's wants us to come in at 4:00 pm. I know that's late, but he really wants to see us today."

"Alright, are the girls still okay with this?" Hank hated to drag his daughters into a psychiatrist's office, but so far they had seemed very agreeable to it.

Rebecca smiled knowingly. Reaching up, she whisked his dark hair away from his forehead. "Honey, they love you. I love you. We're here for you and that includes whatever therapy sessions we need to go to. We want to do this."

Hank once again wrapped his long arms around his wife's smaller frame. "I don't deserve you, 'Becca. Not you, not the girls…"

"Honey... We love you. Please just accept that."

Hank rested his chin on the top of his wife's head, contemplating her words. "I love you, too. More than you'll ever know."

E!

Roy returned home, finding a note Joanne had left him, a honey-do list. He spent the remainder of the morning placing fresh sheets on Jennifer's bed, vacuuming the bedrooms and living room, and making sure the guest bathroom was clean. At lunch, he made himself a couple of sandwiches and a glass of iced tea, then sat down at the kitchen table to eat. This was the part of having a working wife that he really despised. The house was lonely and quiet, and he hated eating alone. He decided to make spaghetti for their dinner and quickly jotted down a list of ingredients he would need to purchase at the grocery store before the kids got home from school. As soon as he cleaned up the kitchen, he made his way to the master bedroom for a nap. He had no idea what kind of a night they might have with Corrie and was determined to get some sleep while he could.

E!

In her apartment, Caroline stood in front of her closet trying to decide what to wear on her night out with Chet. He had asked her if she liked Italian food, which she adored, and she hoped they would be eating at Niccoli's. Finally settling on a white skirt and a purple sleeveless top with matching sweater, she laid them out on her bed. Once more, she stepped into Corrie's bedroom to check on her napping daughter, finding her just beginning to stir. Big brown eyes fluttered open followed by a bright grin.

"Hi, Princess."

"Mommy," the little girl mumbled, pushing herself up from her bed and crawling into her mother's lap.

Caroline held her daughter for a few moments, allowing her to fully awaken. "Listen, Mommy needs to take a shower. Will you watch television for a little while so I can do that?"

The child nodded her head, climbing down from her bed and padding off towards the living room. Caroline followed behind her, turning it on and changing the channel to her daughter's favorite afternoon line-up. "Alright, Flintstones, Bewitched, and Flipper."

"I'm thirsty."

"Okay, I'll get you some water." Caroline prepared a sippy cup, setting it down on a coaster on the end table near her daughter. "Mommy will be out soon," she said, making sure the front door was locked with the safety chain, then heading for her bathroom.

While she stood beneath the hot spray of the shower, Caroline's heart began to beat wildly. Even though she was very much looking forward to her evening alone with Chet, she was also very nervous. He was so wonderful with Corrie, but what if they really didn't have much to talk about when they were alone? What if tonight didn't go well? Then again, what if it did? She shampooed her hair, using the strawberry-scented shampoo she loved so much, then applied the matching conditioner. She allowed it to sit while she took extra care shaving her legs. She didn't want to take any chances with accidentally cutting herself. Once she completed that task, she stepped back into the hot stream of water, rinsing out the conditioner, and allowing her mind to wonder once more. What if tonight went really well and they ended up back here or at his place? She already knew what kissing him did to her; they had experienced truly passionate kissing on more than one occasion, but was she ready for more? She thought back to the last time she and Corey had been together romantically. It was the week before he had been deployed to Viet Nam. Suddenly, memories of her intimate time with her husband came flooding back. He had been gone for nearly four years, yet in some ways, it seemed as if their time together had been a lifetime ago. She knew that if her relationship with Chet continued, she probably needed to be honest with him about Corey. Right now, it wasn't important, but if tonight went the way she hoped, then he eventually needed to know. In her mind, being honest was the most important thing in a relationship. It wasn't that she had been dishonest with Chet, she just hadn't told him the entire truth.

Shivering beneath the cooling stream, she quickly turned off the water. She stepped out, drying herself off and wrapping one towel around her hair and another around her body. She peeked out from her bedroom, seeing Corrie still sitting on the sofa, giggling and singing a few words, albeit the wrong ones, to the closing song of The Flintstones. Caroline stepped back inside her bathroom to finish her preparations for the night.

On the second floor of their apartment complex, Chester B. Kelly was making his own preparations for his evening out. He had showered, shaved, and splashed a small amount of aftershave on his neck. Earlier, he had picked up his gray suit from the dry cleaners. It was hanging on the doorknob to his bedroom. He reached inside his closet, retrieving a light blue shirt and his gray and navy blue striped tie. He had gotten compliments on the ensemble before, hearing that it made his blue eyes shine even brighter. He wanted tonight to be special, and more than anything, he wanted Caroline to be happy. He had seen her staring at her daughter, her mind a million miles away, too many times. He figured she was thinking about her deceased husband and never questioned her about it. Now, his own self-doubt began to well up inside him. What if he never matched up to Corey Marks? What if he and Caroline didn't enjoy themselves as much alone as they did when they went out with little Corrie? What if, after tonight, she didn't want to see him anymore? He shook the negative thoughts from his head as he continued to get dressed. He always tried to seem so confident around the station when the conversations turned to women, but the truth of the matter was, Chet was anything but confident. John Gage was frequently dumped, and didn't mind sharing his tales with his fellow crew mates, but Chet also knew the pain of being discarded after one or two dates, he just didn't want anyone else to know. Now, the entire station knew about his date with Caroline and he had to be honest with himself, he did not want to go back to work on Monday having to explain that he and Caroline would no longer be seeing each other. Deciding he needed to concentrate on good vibes instead of negative ones, he tucked in his shirt, returning to his bathroom to finish getting ready. He combed his curly hair, then began the painstaking task of tying his tie. He hated wearing the dog collars, as he so often referred to them, but he really wanted to look his best. With one final glimpse at himself in the mirror, he flicked off the bathroom light.

He grabbed his coat off the hanger as he made his way to the kitchen. His mouth was dry and he knew it was just his nervousness. Stepping into the kitchen for a glass of water, he noticed the bag from the drugstore still sitting on the counter where he had left it this morning. He reached inside the bag, withdrawing the black box and stared at it for several long moments. Should he carry one with him in his wallet? He didn't want Caroline to think that he was expecting anything other than a nice meal and spending a few hours alone with her. If he went on the date prepared for a romantic encounter, would she be offended? If they decided to be intimate, would running back upstairs for protection kill the mood? Finally, he decided that Caroline was indeed very special to him and the last thing he wanted to do was offend her in any way. He wasn't taking her out with any preconceived notions of how the night would end, and he certainly didn't expect anything in return. He placed the black box back inside the bag and left it on the counter. He could always make a quick dash upstairs later on.

E!

Joanne and Iris settled into a comfortable routine at the flower shop. They were both working on filling orders for the upcoming funeral. The silence between them was broken when Joanne began asking questions, wanting to get to know her boss a little better.

"So, you've been doing this a long time, haven't you?"

Iris continued clipping the leaves off the flowers for the arrangement she was working on. "Flower arranging? Yes, I have."

"I mean, specifically for funerals. It seems that it doesn't bother you," Joanne said, tying another ribbon using the technique that Iris had shown her shortly after hiring her.

"No, like I've told you before, it's a great feeling to be able to help someone say goodbye to their loved one." She dabbed quickly at the corners of her eyes. The move did not go unnoticed by her employee.

"I'm sorry, Iris. I didn't mean to upset you," Joanne mentioned, worrying that she had somehow said something wrong.

Iris smiled a tired smile. "Joanne, you didn't say anything to upset me. Tomorrow is a significant day for me, and it's just that… Well, time isn't making my loss any easier to handle."

Joanne felt like she had been kicked in the stomach. "I'm so sorry, Iris. I really had no idea that you had lost someone close to you. Please… Please accept my apology."

"Oh, no need to apologize. You had no way of knowing. It's fine, really. It isn't like I was going to forget about it, you know?"

Joanne was about to ask whom her boss had lost, when the ringing telephone interrupted the conversation. "I'll get it, Iris."

"Bloomers," Joanne answered on the third ring, using her sweetest voice. "Yes, certainly. Let me get an order form," she said, digging into the drawer beside the telephone for a pen and pad of green and white order forms. "Alright, go ahead with your order."

Across the room, Iris Campbell allowed her mind to drift back several years, to a happier time in her life. So much had happened in the last decade. Maybe one day, she would share it with Joanne, but at the moment, it was just too private.

E!

Roy chopped up the vegetables for the salad he was making to eat with the spaghetti dinner he was preparing. He glanced at the clock, realizing that the kids would be home from school very soon. They rarely rode the bus home, but now that Joanne was working, it had to be done on occasion. Arrangements had been made for the bus to drop them off at the corner, where all the kids on their short street disembarked, and they knew to walk straight home. He finished chopping the bell pepper, then snapped the lid on the Tupperware container, placing it in the refrigerator just as the front door opened.

"Hi, Daddy," six year-old Jennifer called out, running through the front door with a picture in her hand. "Look what I colored for you and Mommy!"

"Let me see that," Roy said, examining the proffered paper with a rainbow arching over a field of flowers. "That's lovely, sweetheart."

"Can I stick it up on the refrigerator?"

"Of course," he stated, watching as his young artist pushed other pieces of artwork aside, clearing off a spot for her newest masterpiece. "Where's your brother?"

"He's talking to Jimmy. He'll be here in a minute."

As if on cue, Roy heard the front door opening again. "Hi, Dad."

"Hello, Chris. How was school?"

"Fine. Hey, can I spend the night with Jimmy?" Chris asked, hopefully.

"Did he ask you, or did you invite yourself?" Roy had a sneaking suspicion that his son was looking for a way not to spend the night with two young girls.

"No, his mom asked me, I promise. I didn't invite myself. She's gonna call you in a few minutes," Chris further explained.

"Alright, if she calls me, then it's alright by me. Just be on your best behavior, okay, son?"

"I will. Thanks, Dad."

Fifteen minutes later, the expected phone call was received and Roy graciously accepted the invitation for Chris. Calling up the stairs, he let his son know of his conversation with Jimmy's mother. "Chris?"

"Yea?"

"That was Mrs. Bumpers. Go ahead and pack your overnight bag. They're expecting you in the next hour." Roy turned around, just as a scampering noise was heard coming down the stairs.

"I'm ready, see ya, Dad."

Roy turned back around just in time to see his son scurrying through the living room and out the front door with his duffel bag slung on his shoulder much the same way that Roy carried his to the station. "Have a good time," he called after his retreating son, smiling to himself.

E!

Rebecca looked at her watch, standing up and walking across the room again. She was as nervous now as she had been during Hank's first session. Tonight, he would find out that she and the girls had all three attended a session with Dr. Robertson the previous day – without Hank's knowledge.

"Mom, pacing isn't going to make it happen any sooner," Victoria stated softly.

"If it's happening at all," Melissa added.

"Missy, please think positively," Rebecca suggested.

"But, by now, he knows. He's gonna be mad, I just know it."

Rebecca looked at her elder child with compassionate understanding. "Dr. Robertson knows what he's doing, sweetie. Your father trusts him and we have to trust the doctor's judgment, too."

Missy leaned her head against her mother's shoulder. "I just want Dad back like he used to be," she sniffled.

"Me too," Vickie added, leaning against her mother's other shoulder.

Rebecca wrapped her arms around her girls, the two beautiful products of the love she and Hank shared. She gently caressed the backs of the girls' heads, feeling how similar the texture of their hair was to that of their father's. "I know. That's what I want too… And, so does your father...," she whispered quietly, more to convince herself than her daughters. "He can do this… I know he can. We just have to keep believing in him." She gave each girl a quick kiss on the head, continuing to hold them close, never ceasing praying that a miracle was taking place on the opposite side of the office door.

E!

Once again, Caroline nervously looked at the clock on the wall of her living room. She had packed Corrie's pink bag with a couple of changes of clothes, her nightgown, toothbrush, hairbrush, and her favorite doll, Mrs. Beasley. She was concerned about the child spending the night away from home for the first time, but she knew that it was time to start letting her daughter experience other things and situations, grateful that the DeSotos would be the ones taking care of her.

"Corrie, are you excited about spending the night with Jennifer?"

The little girl squealed in delight. "Uh-huh, is it time?"

"Almost, Mr. Chet will be here real soon," she explained, brushing Corrie's bangs out of her face.

A few more minutes of Flipper played out, then a knock was heard at the door.

"Mizzer Phet?"

"I think so," Caroline said, brushing the wrinkles out of her skirt, and checking her reflection in the mirror one last time before opening the door.

The sight before him took Chet's breath away. "Ah, C-Caroline… You look beautiful," he complimented, unable to take his eyes off the young woman.

"Aww, thank you. Please, won't you come in?"

Caroline stepped aside, allowing her date to enter her apartment, just as a bolt of three-year-old energy charged in his direction. "Mizzer Phet!"

"Hey there, ladybug," he said, scooping up the happy little girl.

Caroline smiled at the interchange between her daughter and Chet. Corrie really was crazy about him and the feeling seemed mutual. "Let's get your bag, sweetheart."

"That's right," Chet said, wide-eyed. "You're having a slumber party with Jennifer DeSoto, aren't you?" He wanted to make the little girl feel excited about the event, having been told how difficult this might be.

"Yeah!" She squealed in his ear, wrapping her chubby arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek.

"I'll carry her out," Chet said, watching Caroline pick up her purse and Corrie's bag.

E!

A knock on the front door, signaled the arrival of the DeSotos' young overnight guest. Roy opened the door, smiling at the sight of a dressed up Chester B. Kelly. "Well, come in. You clean up real well, Chet," Roy kidded. "Hello, Corrie. Jennifer is looking forward to you spending the night, tonight."

"Jen-ny," the young girl called out.

"Hi, Corrie," Jennifer responded, rounding the corner into the living room.

"Jennifer DeSoto, where are your manners?"

"Oh, hello Mr. Chet and Ms. Caroline," she said sheepishly.

"Hi there," Caroline returned, smiling at the blonde-haired girl. "I hope you girls have fun tonight."

Chet merely waved at the young duo as Jennifer took Corrie by the hand.

"Corrie, come give me a kiss before I leave. I'll see you tomorrow morning. You be a sweet girl, alright?" She encouraged, kneeling down and giving her daughter a hug.

"She'll be just fine, Caroline. Don't you two worry about a thing, just go and have a nice evening," Roy offered, hoping to alleviate some of the young mother's distress. It truly seemed that Caroline was much more worried than Corrie, at least at the moment.

"Thank you so much for doing this for us," Caroline said, hugging Roy's neck.

"Yea, thanks a lot, man," Chet agreed.

"No problem, that's what friends are for. Besides, you two need to spend some time together without her. It'll be good for you both," he said, offering a quick wink to Chet as the couple turned to leave.

An unexpected blush covered Chet's face at the comment.

"Tell Joanne I'll be by here to pick her up around 10:00 am."

Suddenly, Roy remembered the last part of the note his wife had left for him. "Oh, Jo wanted me to let you know that she has to go in for a few hours tomorrow morning. They have to deliver flowers for a funeral, and she said she'd just drop Corrie off by your apartment. It's on the way."

Chet tightened his jaw muscles; the sound of Joanne's name reminded him of the scene he had witnessed earlier between Roy and the unknown woman. Then, realizing that he didn't want anything hampering his mood for the night, he pushed the idea to the back of his mind. Roy was solid, a respectable family man. Surely, there was a good explanation for what Chet had seen.

"Well, Caroline, are you ready to go?"

She cast a quick glance up the stairs in the direction the two girls had disappeared. High-pitched voices could be heard laughing, and a smile crossed her face.

Chet caught the look and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a sideways hug. "If you need us, we'll be at Niccoli's," Chet told Roy, hoping to make his date feel better about leaving.

"Joanne will be home soon and everything will be fine. Don't you two worry about her, just have a good time," Roy said walking them to the door.

Chet opened the van door for his date, waiting for her to be seated before he closed it. When he sat down behind the steering wheel, he looked over at her. "Are you sure about this?"

Caroline smiled a big smile. "Absolutely, just a little nervous."

"Me too," Chet mumbled, although his nervousness was for a completely different reason.

The drive to the restaurant was made in near silence, a fact that worried Chet. He had tried to make light conversation, but Caroline seemed a little lost in thought. "Thinking about Corrie?"

"A little, but I know she'll be fine. I think I'm having a more difficult time of it than she is."

Chet chuckled. "Well, maybe a little dinner and wine will take your mind off of it, temporarily." He turned onto the Pacific Coast Highway and headed for Niccoli's, tiny beads of sweat starting to pop out along his forehead. This was shaping up to be a very uncomfortable night.

E!

Roy finished dinner and called the girls to the table. "Jen, Corrie? Time to eat."

Two happy youngsters scurried into the kitchen.

"Puh-skettie!" Squealed the younger of the two.

Jennifer laughed at the mispronunciation of the word by her younger friend. "It's spaghetti," she corrected.

Corrie looked at Jennifer with confusion written all over her round face. Roy caught the look and knew he needed to intervene before Corrie's happy mood made a drastic change. He did not want to have to call Caroline and Chet to come get her.

"Jennifer, that's what she said," he warned, the look on his face saying what he didn't say with his words.

"Oooh, okay, Daddy." Jennifer was only six, but she knew the look and she remembered the discussion her father had had with her before Corrie's arrival. She needed to make the girl feel welcome and help her have a good time on her first overnight stay.

The three began eating their spaghetti and Roy soon wondered if he had made a mistake in his choice of a meal. Spaghetti noodles and sauce were smeared along the faces of both girls and several times, forkfuls of pasta landed in their laps. Clean up would be a nightmare, but they seemed to be enjoying the food. Jennifer showed Corrie how to slurp the noodles into her mouth, much to Roy's chagrin. He was just about to ask her to stop, when a very haggard Joanne walked in.

"Oh, the food smells wonderful, honey."

"Mommy!" Jennifer called out.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said dropping her purse down on the sofa as she walked through the living room. "And hello there Miss Corrie," she said with a smile. "Roy, everything okay?"

Roy caught the concerned look on her face. "So far, so good," he responded, taking a bite of salad.

"Well, that's good," she said, winking in his direction. Both adults understood each other. "May I join you, ladies?"

"Sit by me, Mommy," Jennifer asked. "Why don't I sit here beside Daddy, so I can look at you two pretty girls," she suggested, preparing her plate and taking a seat beside her husband.

"Let's have a tea party," Jennifer suggested, looking at her mother.

Roy saw the grimace on Joanne's face and knew she was tired. "Hey, can I join you for the tea party so Mommy can rest?"

Joanne smiled appreciatively at her husband. She was really grateful for his thoughtful gesture.

"Yea! Daddy, will you wear the tiara like last time?"

"I sure will. We must all be dressed for the occasion, right Jo?" He winked.

"Absolutely," she grinned, knowing exactly what was coming later in the evening. She had seen her husband dressed in a tiara and red feather boa more than once. She watched in amazement, realizing just how much Corrie was missing by not having a father around, especially one as good as her husband was to their children. Suddenly, she realized that there was one face missing from the table.

"Where's Chris?"

"Oh, he's staying over at Jimmy's for the night. I'm sure he had a hand in getting the invitation," he snickered, nodding his head at the two chattering girls sitting at the table.

Joanne merely smiled, shaking her head. "No doubt."

E!

Chet and Caroline followed the host to their reserved table. Chet assisted Caroline with her chair then seated himself.

"Your waiter, Frank, will be with you shortly, enjoy your meal," he said, nodding to the couple as he turned to leave.

Caroline looked around at the beautiful red, black and white décor then opened up the menu. She gulped when she saw the prices. "Chet, this is really expensive."

"I don't mind," he smiled. "How about a bottle of wine?"

"Wine, too?" She asked, feeling somewhat guilty at the expense.

"Of course, Caroline. Don't worry about the money. It's taken care of, I promise. I just want us to have a good time together." Chet looked upon the lovely face of his date, the dancing flame of the candle between them reflected in her beautiful eyes. "You look so beautiful, I'm just… I can't stop looking at you."

Caroline blushed, tucking her hair behind her left ear. "You look rather dashing yourself."

"Good evening. My name is Frank and I'll be taking care of you," he said, pouring them each a glass of ice water. "Do you have any questions about the menu, or may I make a few suggestions?"

"Um, I think we would like to start off with a bottle of red wine, if that's alright with you?" Chet asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked at his date.

"Oh, yes… That sounds wonderful." Again, Caroline blushed. She had never felt so special before.

"I'll give you a few minutes to look over the menu," the waiter explained, smiling as he departed.

"Everything looks so yummy. I don't know what to order," Caroline said, her eyes sparkling.

"Well, get whatever you want and if you like it, then maybe we can come back again," Chet offered, hoping she would take the bait.

Another smile spread across her face. "I'd like that."

Relief washed over Chet as he began to realize that maybe the night wasn't going to be a bad one after all.

E!

Back at the DeSoto house, Roy sat in a chair much too small for a man of his stature, a red feather boa wrapped around his neck and a tiara adorning his thinning hair. He held a cup of tea to his lips, his pinky finger prominently extended from his hand. "Why Miss DeSoto and Miss Marks, this is the loveliest tea party I've ever attended."

"Why thank you, Mr. DeSoto," Jennifer said in a mocking grown-up voice.

Corrie giggled, thoroughly enjoying her play time with her new friend and her friend's father.

A robe-clad Joanne stood in the doorway watching and listening to the tea party. Roy was such a good father. She really hadn't been treating him fairly through all of this. Tonight, if Corrie did well at bedtime, maybe she and Roy could share a little bedtime of their own.

"Is the party almost over? I know a couple of girls who need to take their baths and brush their teeth."

"Yes, Mrs. DeSoto. We're done here," Jennifer said, once more using her tea party voice.

"Then why don't you two young ladies come with me while Mr. DeSoto cleans up?" Joanne looked at her husband, smiling as he mouthed the words 'thank you' to her.

E!

At Niccoli's, the bottle of wine was quickly being consumed, and Chet had only had half a glass.

"How's your dinner?"

"Oh, this is wonderful, Chet," she replied, her cheeks growing rosy.

"Good, I'm really glad you're having a good time. You deserve it, Caroline," he said softly.

Caroline blushed at the comment. She didn't feel deserving of anything special, but she was certainly enjoying herself. She had never eaten at such a fancy restaurant, and she hadn't had any type of alcohol since before her pregnancy. She was feeling very relaxed, and more than a little talkative.

"So, do you treat all your dates so well?"

"Only the special ones," Chet said with a smile. "Actually, this is the first date I've had in over a year."

"Yea, I haven't had many either. Corey and I…" She stopped short.

"It's okay, I know you were married and I know you loved him. He's Corrie's father, for heaven's sake. Don't feel badly about talking about him. I just hope that…. Well, never mind."

How could Chet mention his fears to her? How could he tell her that he was afraid he might never measure up to her former husband?

"Hope that what?"

"It's nothing." He lifted what was left of his glass of wine. "Here's to us."

"To us," she said, finishing off her second glass and pouring herself a third. "This is really good."

"I'm glad you like it," Chet smiled.

Their waiter returned to remove their plates. "Would you like to see our dessert tray?"

"Oh, none for me, thanks," Caroline groaned, patting her stomach.

"Me either, the food was excellent, Frank."

"Thank you, sir. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Caroline?"

She shook her head at the handsome fireman.

"I'll get your check," Frank said, walking away from the table.

"Want some more wine?" Caroline asked, seeing Chet's glass empty.

"No, no, I'm driving. You go ahead and finish it, if you'd like."

Caroline was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol quite strongly, but her nervousness about what might be coming next made her pour the rest of the contents of the bottle into her glass. By the time Chet had taken care of the check, she had downed the last of it.

"Ready?"

"Sure," she replied, reaching for her purse as Chet held out his hand. She graciously accepted, standing a little too quickly and finding herself swaying slightly.

"Whoa, you okay?"

"Yea, jus' stood up too quick," she said, a slight slur appearing.

"Alright," he said, wrapping her arm into the crook of his elbow to steady her, then heading for the door. He opened the van door for her and assisted her inside. Once he had seated himself, he turned to her, drinking in her beauty. "Any place you'd like to go?"

With her head swimming slightly, Caroline looked at the man sitting beside her. He seemed like the most handsome man she had ever seen and something stirred within her. "Le's go back to m'place," she slurred, reaching over and patting his upper thigh.

Chet took the hint, excitement coursing through his body as he cranked up the van and pulled out of the parking lot.

E!

With the girls bathed and teeth brushed, Joanne sent them to play in Jennifer's room. She then returned to her husband who was just coming out of the shower.

"So, how's our guest doing?"

"Quite well, actually. I'm thinking this might go better than any of us expected."

"Hopefully," Roy responded, pulling on his boxers and a t-shirt.

"Why are you getting dressed?"

He looked at Joanne as if she had taken leave of her senses. She hadn't been in an amorous mood in quite some time, so Roy certainly hadn't expected it tonight. "Um, I was gonna go to bed, unless you have something else in mind?"

"I just might," Joanne said, seductively. She reached for the lamp, and with one click the room was enveloped in darkness. The last thing she saw before the light went out was the happy expression on her husband's face as he pulled his t-shirt over this head.

E!

A/N: Thank you so much to all those who continue to read this saga and share your thoughts with me. I know you may be wondering when the house division, or in this case the dilemma, but I promise it's coming very soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Warning: sexual situations

A/N: I tried to keep this at the "T" rating and not take away from the story. I tried not to include anything you wouldn't see on network television these days –although that's sometimes beyond the "T" rating in my opinion. If you'd rather read it without the sexual innuendoes then PM me and I'll send you a different version. Lots of confusion in this chapter, but then again, isn't that how most 'divisions' start? Thank you for reading and especially those who have left comments. To the guest reviewers, I appreciate you as well. I just don't have a way of contacting you except in an author's note.

Chapter 8

Hank sat in the soft chair of Dr. Robertson's office hearing that his wife and two daughters had participated in a family session the previous day while Hank was on shift. The news was surprising and for a moment, a flash of anger swept across his face.

"I don't understand. Why wasn't I told about this?"

"Because I needed to discuss how they were doing, and get their honest perspective on how you were progressing. I know it seems wrong to you, but if you had known they were coming in, then you might have influenced their opinions, without even realizing it. I know you may be upset, but I felt that it was the best way to help."

"By lying to me?"

"No, Hank… By not informing you ahead of time."

Hank scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. It was obvious that he was doing his best to calm himself.

"Don't you want to know what they said?"

"I figured that'd be privileged information," Hank shot back sarcastically.

Being the professional that he was, Dr. Robertson ignored the comment. "Your wife and daughters are doing quite well. And, from what they told me yesterday, so are you."

"Humph," the fire captain grunted.

"I spoke to all three separately, and each one told me basically the same thing. There's only one area where they feel you need to continue to work."

Weary hazel eyes shot daggers in the general direction of the psychiatrist. "And?"

"And I agree with them," Dr. Robertson commented,

"Well, you wanna share your little secret with me? I am the reason we're all here, ya know."

Hank's attitude was growing worse. Sensing the need to alter the course of his patient's thinking, the psychiatrist spoke up again. "I asked them to each write down what they feel is still missing in your recovery. I have those notes here and I'd like for you to read them. Then, if you'll allow me, I'd like to work with you on an exercise to help you get past the last hurdle towards your complete recovery."

Hank looked at the papers his therapist was holding and his heart softened. He looked down at his wringing hands then back up at the man who had helped him come so far in such a short period of time. "Doc, I owe you an apology."

"No need, it was a surprise. Now, are you ready?" He asked, extending the notes to the fire captain.

Slowly, Hank accepted the proffered papers. Did he really want to know what his family thought of him? He quickly decided that yes, indeed, he did. Looking down at the first note, he recognized the script as that of his youngest, Victoria.

Daddy,

I love you so much and I'm so proud of all the hard work you've been doing. Actually, I'm proud of everything you've done. My whole life you've been saving other people and their property. You're a hero in the eyes of many people, but especially to me. You're my hero, Daddy. I know you've been hurting since that horrible fire and I just want you to know that I'm here for you. You've come a long way but there's just one more thing I hope you'll do. You seem to know that everyone around you has forgiven you for how you treated them, including all of us. But, Daddy, you've got to forgive yourself now. Nothing that happened was your fault. So, please let it go. I love you with all my heart. You're the best daddy in the whole wide world.

Love,

Vickie

Hank wiped a tear from the corner of his right eye. His baby was growing up way too quickly, sounding so mature for a fourteen year-old. He took Vickie's letter and placed it behind the others, noting that the next one was from his first-born.

Dad,

I love you with all my heart and soul. You are the best father a girl could ever have, even if you do give my dates a hard time. I know you do it because you love me, and honestly, I appreciate that. Lately, you've been hurting so badly and I wish I could make it stop. But, I don't know how. I think that you do, though. Everyone in your life has forgiven you, even for the things that weren't your fault. Now, it's your turn. You must forgive yourself, Dad. Vickie and I need you to be there for our proms, our graduations, to help us move in for our freshman year at college and, one day, to walk us down the aisle. Please do this for yourself so that you can be there for all the things that we'll need you there for in the future. One day, I want to see you holding your grandchildren. But, that's a long way off from now – haha. Anyway, please do what Dr. Robertson wants you to do, but do it for yourself. He's helped you come a long way and he'll help you get to the end of this. I love you, Dad. More than I can say on a piece of paper.

Love you,

Missy

Hank ran his open hand down his face, drying it from the tears that had slipped free as he read his daughter's heart-felt words. He knew who had written the last letter, and in a way, he almost dreaded reading it. He and 'Becca had shared many talks since his recovery began and he couldn't imagine what else she had to say to him. With shaking hands, he slipped Melissa's page behind Vickie's and stared into the short note from his beloved wife.

My Dearest Hank,

I don't know what else I can say that I haven't already said. We've talked about the need for you to forgive yourself, and I know you are struggling with that fact. But I want you to be here with me as we continue to raise our girls to adulthood. I want to share many more anniversaries, Christmases, and many more birthdays with you. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that even with all we've been through lately, I'd do it all again. I love you so much, Hank. I need you to always be by my side. I want to grow old with you. Let go of the guilt you've been holding. Please do this for us, do it for the girls, but mainly, do it for yourself. We have a lot of living to do!

I love you from the bottom of my heart,

Your 'Becca

Hank no longer had the energy to wipe the tears from his face, instead, allowing them to course unimpeded down his angular features and drip from his chin. This was it. This was what he needed to do, what everyone had told him he needed to do, and what he now realized had to be done. He swallowed hard, accepting the box of tissues that Dr. Robertson placed in front of him. He dried his eyes and blew his nose.

"Doc, can I keep these?"

"Absolutely, they may be a source of strength and encouragement for you in the future."

The weeping fire captain nodded his thanks. "How… How do I let it go?"

"Do you want to let go of it? You've been holding on to your guilt for a long time, punishing yourself. Are you sure you're ready?" The psychiatrist knew what he wanted to do to help his patient, he just hoped the man would be amenable to the idea.

"I'm willing to try," Hank said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Great," he said, taking a seat beside his patient. "Part of the problem, is that you have a definite beginning for this ordeal."

"Carrigan's death," Hank mumbled, barely aware that he had even spoken the words out loud.

"Yes, but there's no definite ending. If you'll allow me to, I'd like to go over an exercise that I think will help you. It will give you a definite ending and hopefully, closure."

"Sounds like a funeral."

"In effect, that's exactly what it is, Hank. It's the burial of your guilt, and the beginning of your self-forgiveness."

Hank looked up at the other man, steely determination in his eyes. "Let's do it."

Dr. Robertson cleared the table in front of his patient, turned down the lights and placed a large multicolored candle on it. "Please, take a seat in this straight back chair," he suggested.

"Having a séance, Doc?"

"Not exactly; we're trying to lay a few ghosts to rest, not conjure them up."

Hank tried to smile, but his nervousness remained.

"Hank, as a firefighter, you know the damage that flames can do. They will consume anything and everything they touch. This candle represents you, and the flame," he stated, using a lighter to light the candle, "represents your guilt."

Hank swallowed the bile he was beginning to taste in the back of his throat.

"Look at the flame, Hank. See how it consumes the wick? Watch as the wax of the candle begins to melt away, slowly warping as the flame continues to inflict its damage."

Hank nodded his understanding. "I want you to take some time and reflect on how your guilt has damaged you, as a person, a fire captain, a father, a husband…" He stood up, walking to the door. "I'd like to ask your family to join us for this. Is that okay with you?"

Hank nodded as he continued to stare into the flame, remembering the night it all began. He transported himself back to that moment when his whole world exploded along with the structure that took the life of one of the men under his command. He never heard Dr. Robertson open the door. He only heard the sounds of the fire, the smell of the smoke and water, the flashing lights and the shouts of male voices as first Marco and then Chet walked out of the building carrying a fallen brother.

Rebecca and the girls looked up when the door to Dr. Robertson's office opened.

"He's ready."

Rebecca exhaled in relief. The three of them stood up in unison and walked over to the open door. They knew what to do from this point forward. Dr. Robertson had explained it all the day before. Slowly, they each entered the darkened room. Missy took her father's left hand, feeling him shaking as he slowly squeezed back, never taking his eyes off the flame. Vickie, sat down on his right, taking hold of his free hand, feeling the sweat on his palm and seeing the tears falling down his face. He was still staring at the flame as wax began to pool along the edge of the candle, threatening to spill over.

Rebecca stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders, feeling his trembling and knowing he was struggling internally. His heart was aching, but this was the moment when his soul would find its peace. At least, that's what she was hoping for. Slowly she began to knead away the tension she felt, making sure he knew she was there, behind him, supporting him as he fought to do what he had been trained to do for the last twenty years.

Hank thought about all the harm he had inflicted on those around him. He reflected on the fact that they were still here, still supporting him, still loving him. He thought about the note he had received from Kyle Carrigan's family and how even they were not blaming him for what happened to their loved one. He watched as the puddle of wax grew until it spilled over, rolling down the side of the candle just as his own tears were spilling over on his cheeks. This was it. The fire that had been raging within him since that night had to be extinguished, and only Hank could do it. He squeezed his eyes forcing out the remaining tears, determined to cleanse not only his eyes, but his entire being. He squeezed the two smaller hands holding his, and felt the gentle caresses of his wife's tender loving care as she continued to maintain her physical contact.

He once again opened his eyes, anger beginning to swell within him at the flame that had caused him so much pain, and pain to so many others whom he loved dearly. He hated it. He hated fire and all it represented. And now, he hated this flame burning in front of him and what it also represented. Using the breathing technique Dr. Robertson had taught him, he inhaled deeply the red breath of the fire engine representing the profession he loved, and exhaled the dark gray smoky negativity that had consumed him for so long. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… His daughters increased their hold on their father, knowing what he was doing. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… Rebecca accepted the chair Dr. Robertson offered her. Sitting behind Hank, she wrapped her arms around the man she loved more than life itself. She rested her chin on his shoulder, feeling his chest expanding and contracting. This was it. He was finally letting it go. Inhale red… Exhale gray… Inhale red… Exhale gray… Suddenly, the three Stanley ladies felt his body tensing up, trembling almost as if he were having a seizure. Inhale red… He held his breath for only a moment more, then opened his eyes and blew out, completely emptying his lungs of air… and his soul of the gray guilt he had been harboring for so long. Aiming his exhalation at the flickering flame, he watched as it seemed to try to run away from him, then disappeared amid his breathy assault. A faint plume of smoke rose silently upwards, carrying with it the last remnants of the guilt he had carried for far too long. His eyes drifted upwards, following the white smoke until it completely dissipated from sight. Once again, he inhaled the fire engine red color he loved so much, but this time, there was no gray left to exhale. The fire captain had done his job. There would still be some overhaul to complete, as there was with all fires, but his flame of guilt and subsequent self-destruction had been permanently extinguished.

E!

Chet helped Caroline out of the van, the effects of the wine making themselves even more obvious as they tried to walk to her door. "I hope I can fin' m'key," she slurred.

Chet helped to steady her, regretting slightly that he had suggested the wine. However, she seemed to be enjoying herself, relaxing completely as they were talking freely. For that, he was grateful.

"Heeere we go," she giggled, trying to slip the key into the lock, missing multiple times. "I t'ink I need your he'p."

Chet chuckled, holding his larger hand on her smaller one and guiding the key into the lock. "Here," he said, wrapping his arm around her waist and helping her inside. He turned on the lights only to have her turn them back off.

"Nu-uh, lamp," she said, stumbling to the end table, turning on the softer light.

"Easy, Caroline. I don't want ya to fall."

She giggled again, uncontrollably, slipping her sweater off of her shoulders and sliding her feet out of her sandals. "S'long's I fall o' you," she said, planting an open-mouthed sloppy kiss on his lips as she relaxed into his embrace.

Somehow, the two made their way to the sofa and Chet was completely taken aback by her brazenness. "Um, are you… sure you're… okay?" He asked between kisses.

"I've ne'er fel' better, Che'ter, ah, ah-ha," she giggled, leaning forward and snorting as she laughed into his shoulder.

Chet's blue eyes nearly bugged out of his head as she began removing his tie. He couldn't stop his hands from roaming up and down her bare arms. When she began to unbutton his shirt and plant a trail of hot kisses along his neck up to his ear, he groaned in pleasure.

"Uh… Ohmygod, Caroline," he whimpered.

"Do ya got prote'tion?" she asked, continuing to nibble around his ear, her panting breaths causing a definite yearning from his body.

"Upstairs, ho-hold that thought. I'll be right back," he said, gently pushing her back onto the sofa. "I'll hurry," he said wincing slightly as he rushed to the door.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he fumbled with his own keys as he nervously found the right one and inserted it into the lock. He rushed into the kitchen, tearing open the box and pulling out two, placing them in his pocket. He made a quick stop by the bathroom for a quick brush-up, not wanting the lingering effects of the garlic from their meal to dampen Caroline's mood, then slammed his door shut and headed back to his date.

Caroline stood up, wanting to go to the bedroom, but the room began to spin uncontrollably and instead, she slid down on the carpet, burning her knee. "Owww, shi'," she groaned, struggling to get herself upright and down the hallway. She bumped into the door facing, trying to get into her bathroom. The wine and the water were beginning to create another problem. Forgetting that she was wearing a skirt, she merely unsnapped it and pulled it down as if she were wearing shorts, plopping sideways on the toilet, nearly falling off. As soon as she had finished taking care of her business, she began trying to brush her teeth, her previously discarded garments left on the floor. She didn't have enough coordination to hold her toothbrush in one hand and squeeze the toothpaste out with the other. After dropping a couple of globs of toothpaste into the sink, she finally set the brush down and used both hands to load the bristles with Colgate. The running water, along with the toothpaste, made her even more dizzy and nauseated.

Chet opened the front door, closing and locking it behind him. Not seeing her anywhere, he pulled out the condoms as he walked down the hallway, calling out her name.

"Caroline?"

"I'm 'n heeere," she slurred out, from behind the closed bathroom door. Finally, holding onto the cabinet with one hand, she rinsed out her mouth with the other. She turned to go into her bedroom, tripping over her skirt and panties lying haphazardly on the floor. Losing her balance, she reached out and grabbed the shower curtain.

Chet tossed the condoms onto the nightstand, removing his shirt and shoes as he waited for her to come out of the bathroom. A crashing sound startled him and he rushed to the bathroom door.

"Baby? Are you okay?" He asked, gently knocking on the door. He thought he heard a mumble from the other side, and wasn't sure what to do. Deciding that since they were obviously about to get to know one another on an intimate level, he opened the door and peeked inside.

"Oh, Baby, your back!" He stated in a raised voice, remembering the initial injury from the car accident where they first met. "Did you hurt yourself?" Chet was shocked to see her sitting on the floor, partially covered by the green shower curtain. She had one arm stuck in her sleeveless top and tangled in her bra, the purple mass wedged on top of her head. She had forgotten to unbutton the button at the neck.

"I can't ge' ou'," she said, struggling.

Carefully, Chet stepped over the small pile of clothing left near the toilet, and began peeling away the tangled mass, shocked by her appearance - and missing clothing - as she sat on the cold tile floor of her bathroom. "I think we need to get you to bed, sweetheart."

"Yea, you too," she giggled, reaching for his neck.

Carefully, Chet lifted her, carrying her to her bed. He pulled the covers around her, making sure to cover her completely, then sat on the edge of the bed. He realized that any sexual encounter with her would have to wait until she was sober.

"C'mon, join me," she groaned, trying once again to unbutton his shirt. He grabbed her hands, kissing them as he tucked them back beneath the covers.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," he said, trying to hide his disappointment. He knew that she was in no condition to consent for any romantic activity.

"Y-you don' wan' me?" She said, tears beginning to well up in her drunken eyes.

Chet tenderly brushed the hair away from her face. Did he want her? Yes, in the worst way. But, he wasn't the kind of man who would take advantage of the situation. He wanted their first time to be memorable for them both. "Yes, Baby. Yes, I want you. But, you need to sleep this off."

"I-I not s'eepy. I wan' ya, Che'ter. I-I wanna p'ease ya," she slurred.

Chet couldn't believe what he had just heard. She wanted to please him? Maybe she didn't want to make love after all. Maybe she was just trying to give him what she thought he wanted, a payment of sorts for their night out. He shook the thoughts from his head, knowing that she was too inebriated to make sense at the moment. When he looked back at her face, her eyelids were growing heavy, but tears were streaming down her face.

"Baby?"

"P'ease… P'ease don' lea'e me?" She cried.

"I won't leave you, sweetheart. I'm right here. Are you hurting?" He feared that she may have re-injured her back when she fell.

"No… Jus' wanna be hel'… Wan' ya to hol' me… P'ease?"

Chet removed his socks, shoes, his outer shirt, and his pants, then crawled into the bed beside her, wearing only his boxers and t-shirt. More than anything, his body wanted to be making love to her, but his heart and his head wouldn't allow it. He was glad that he was laying on top of the covers, rather than beneath them with her. He held her as she curled up beside him, holding her in his arms as she silently wept. He wanted to ask her why she was crying, but he figured he knew. She was missing her husband, and once again, Chester B. Kelly didn't measure up.

E!

Across town, Roy lay on his back, his hands locked behind his head. Joanne lay curled away from him sleeping, but Roy couldn't find the rest he needed. He stared into the darkness, thinking back over what had happened a few hours earlier. They had been together for so many years that he knew her body as well as he knew his own. Something wasn't right. What he had felt was different than at any other point in their lives. Granted, neither of them had ever experienced a sexual relationship with anyone else, and neither had any regrets about the fact, but maybe that was why he knew what had happened. There was no mistaking it and it left Roy once again feeling emotionally unfulfilled and somehow less of a man. For the first time in their sexual relationship, Joanne had faked it.

E!

Chet lay still, spooning Caroline, feeling the even breathing that proved she was sleeping. He pulled her a little tighter, making sure she remained on her side in case she got sick. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, felt the softness of her skin, and wondered if what he thought was developing between them was somehow slipping away from him. He lay there, quietly, inwardly kicking himself for suggesting the wine. Would their night have ended better without the alcohol? Then again, maybe the wine just hastened what was sure to happen anyway. Unable to sleep, he continued to hold her, allowing her to sleep off the effects of the alcohol, and vowing to leave before she awoke. He couldn't face her and the rejection he felt was coming.

Eventually, as sleep grew closer and closer, he extricated himself from around her and slowly got out of bed. He sat there, staring at her sleeping form, her beauty still obvious to him even with the smudged mascara and tousled hair. He reached down, once more brushing the stray strands out of her eyes and gently kissed her forehead. "Goodbye, Caroline." He gathered up the clothing he had left on the floor, stepping into his pants as he walked down the hallway of her apartment. He didn't bother buttoning his shirt or even putting on his socks. No one would see him at two in the morning. He slipped his bare feet into his shoes and quietly left his sweetheart, and his dreams, locked in the apartment behind him.

E!

A rapping noise woke Roy and Joanne up.

"Mommy? Daddy?"

"Come in sweetheart, what's wrong?" Joanne asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as Jennifer slowly entered the room.

Behind her, Corrie made her way inside the bedroom, holding tightly to the older girl's hand, tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. "I want my mom-my," she cried.

Joanne quickly stood up, wrapping her robe around her and reaching for the upset toddler. "Come with Jo-Jo, sweetie. We're gonna see your mommy real soon, I promise," she said, kissing the toddler lightly on the forehead as she lifted her into her motherly embrace.

"I can sit up with her, Jo. You've got to go to work in the morning," Roy offered with a yawn, feeling as if he had just drifted off to sleep.

"It's okay, I've got her. It's time for me to get up anyway. It's seven o'clock." Joanne took the two girls and left the room, talking to them about getting breakfast as they made their way downstairs, the younger girl's crying abating.

Roy leaned back on his pillow with a huffing sound. He thought about the previous night and what he could have done differently. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine what he had done wrong. Why he hadn't been able to please her, he didn't know. Was there something physically wrong with him? He didn't think so. But, why had their love-making ended with a less than pleasing experience for his wife? And why hadn't she just been honest with him?

Eventually, realizing he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep, he got up and got dressed. He needed to relieve Joanne with the girls so she could get ready for work.

E!

Somewhere in the deep recesses of her sleeping mind, Caroline heard Corrie calling for her. She forced her eyes open, her head throbbing, and called out for her daughter. "I'm here, baby."

Sitting up in bed, she looked around the room and realized that she had been dreaming. Corrie was still at the DeSotos'. She pushed her hair back away from her face and tried to get out of bed. Her aching body protested the movement. "Ugh," she groaned, then looking down realized that she was completely naked.

Memories from the previous night assaulted her. Eating at the restaurant with Chet, drinking several glasses of wine, returning home and… "Ohmygod," she gasped, remembering bits and pieces of the events that followed their return to her apartment. Her knee was stinging, her back ached terribly, her head was pounding and her stomach was swirling. She recalled sitting on his lap removing his tie, kissing passionately… She reached for the nightstand to steady herself, urgently needing to get to the bathroom. There, on the nightstand, were two unused condoms. Her eyes scanned the floor, not seeing what she desperately needed to see.

"No… Please, no, he wouldn't…," she mumbled, her breathing coming in short gasps.

She stumbled into the bathroom, turning over the empty wastebasket, again not finding what she was searching for. More memories pushed forward from years earlier and her stomach began to lurch. She managed to reach the toilet before emptying her stomach into the porcelain bowl, gagging on both the burning stomach acid and the memories. It was going to happen again, she just knew it. "Oh god, Chet… I trusted you… I'm such an idiot…," she cried out, once again gagging into the toilet.

Eventually, she managed to pull herself up off the floor and looked into the mirror. There was a small bruise right at her hairline near her right temple, but she didn't remember what happened. She wet a wash cloth with cool water and began washing her face, the cool feeling relieving the burning from her tears. She couldn't stop crying no matter what she did. She was completely disgusted with her behavior from the previous night. She had allowed herself to become vulnerable and now she was going to pay the price for it - again.

E!

Joanne brushed Corrie's hair then packed the brush up in her pink bag. "I'm so glad you spent the night with us, Corrie," she commented with a smile.

"Me, too," Jennifer said from her place beside her guest on her bed.

Roy stood in the doorway watching the scene. He wondered how the evening had turned out for Chet and Caroline and hoped it had gone better than it had for Joanne and himself. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he joined in with the conversation. "You'll have to come back and stay again sometime, okay, Corrie?"

"Okay," she grinned, previous pleas for her mother seemingly forgotten.

Joanne stood up, planting a kiss on her husband's cheek. "See you in a little while, honey. Goodbye, Jennifer. Be good for your father."

"I will," the little girl said, watching her mother take Corrie by the hand and head off to work.

A few minutes later, Joanne pulled into the apartment complex where Corrie and her mother resided. Taking her small charge by the hand, she guided the toddler up the sidewalk to her apartment and knocked on the door.

Inside, Caroline had done her best to hide her appearance behind a thick layer of make-up.

"Hey, how'd it go? Hello, Princess," the young mother said, rushing through her greeting to her friend and diverting her swollen eyes.

"She did great, Caroline but… What's wrong?" Joanne's voice held alarm.

"Nothing, just, uh, slept late," she lied, unable to hide the definite limp in her gait.

Joanne followed her friend inside without waiting for the invitation. "Corrie, will you take this to your room for Jo-Jo while I talk to Mommy?" She asked, pleased when the little girl complied happily, seemingly unaware of her mother's distress.

"It's nothing Joanne, really."

"Nothing? Your eyes are blood shot and swollen, you've been crying, you're limping and," she gasped at the mark on the young woman's knee. "And what happened to your knee?"

"Please, don't do this, please?" She asked, her chin beginning to quiver.

"Talk to me, Caroline," Joanne pleaded.

"My date started off well enough, but… Let's just say it didn't end that way… For me, at least," she mumbled, turning away just as her older friend pulled her into a hug.

"Did Chet do this to you?" Joanne whispered, the younger woman's silence answering her question. She looked around the room, noticing the purple sweater on the floor and a man's tie on the back of the sofa. Grit and determination coursed its way through her veins. She pulled back from the hug, brushing the hair away from her friend's eyes. "He won't get away with this, Caroline."

Caroline grimaced at the venom-filled words. She knew Joanne was making the wrong assumptions and she had to stop her. "No, he didn't do anything wrong. I'm to blame. I, uh, had too much to drink so…"

"No way, don't say that. He had no right to hurt you, no matter what," she said, seething.

"No, Joanne, really… It wasn't like that," the younger woman said, back-peddling. She had to get Joanne to understand that Chet didn't do what Joanne was thinking he did.

"Are you going to be okay for a little while? I need to work for a couple of hours, but then I can…"

"No, I'll be fine, honest. I just need some rest and…." She looked up just as Corrie came back into the room. "And spend time with my Princess," she smiled, her face lighting up at the sight of her little girl. "Thanks for everything, Joanne. I mean it," she emphasized.

Joanne didn't want to leave her friend hurting, but she had a responsibility to her employer and their customers. She left with a heavy heart, walking down the walkway staring at a certain apartment on the second floor. "You sleazy sonofabitch," she mumbled, opening the door of her car and slamming it shut. Ten minutes later, she wheeled into the flower shop, deciding to park in the back. She inhaled a cleansing breath, calming herself before facing Iris. As soon as she walked inside, she went immediately to the phone to make an urgent call to her husband.

E!

Johnny donned his aviator sunglasses as he pulled out onto the freeway heading for a local business he knew well. It was Saturday, making it a safe day for him to take care of the business at hand, Joanne would be at home with the kids. He parked the Rover along the street, slipping his sunglasses into his shirt pocket, and walking into the front door. He smiled at the older woman who looked up to greet him, a hint of surprise forming on her face.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a familiar voice was heard in the background.

"Roy, you've got to do something… I don't know, talk to him… Well, what he did is criminal!" She stated in an emphatic stage whisper. "Well, if you don't, I will. Arrgh!"

Back out front, Iris once again looked warmly at the handsome man in front of her, watching as he became noticeably uncomfortable.

"Thorn, have you…," She began, only to have her train of thought derailed by his animated facial expressions.

Johnny knitted his eyebrows together, quickly shaking his head from side to side just as Joanne came around the corner. "Um, John, John Gage," he offered in response to the older woman's greeting.

"Arrgh, men!" Joanne growled, then realized they had a customer. "Oh my, oh I'm terribly sorry, I didn't see you come in and… Johnny?"

"Hi, Jo. Everything alright?"

"Yea, I'm sorry, just a… A slight misunderstanding," she answered, unconvincingly. "So, what brings you into Bloomers?"

"Oh, I was just, um, thinking about sending my aunt some flowers," he said, stumbling slightly over his words, still thinking back over the greeting he had received.

"Oh, goodness, where are my manners. Iris Campbell, this is my husband's paramedic partner, John Gage. Johnny, my boss, Iris Campbell."

"Pleasure to meet you, John," Iris said, still a bit confused, but beginning to see things a little clearer.

"Johnny, can I talk to you for a minute, please?"

"Sure," he said, turning and following Joanne out the back door, but not before casting Iris his trademark grin. "Nice to meet you, Iris."

Joanne led Johnny through the back door and out into the back parking lot. If Roy wouldn't call Chet's hand on his inexcusable behavior, then maybe Johnny would.

E!

Back at the DeSoto residence, Roy hung up the phone, rubbing a worried hand across his face. Joanne had to be mistaken. There was no way Chet Kelly would do what Joanne was accusing him of doing. He was a bit arrogant and a nuisance at times, but there was just no way the lineman would ever treat a lady the way Joanne had described. He looked out the back window and saw their neighbor, Mrs. Seabury pulling weeds in her flower garden. Jennifer always enjoyed helping Mrs. Seabury and the older lady seemed to enjoy the young girl's company. Perhaps the older woman would enjoy a little company while Roy paid his shift mate a visit.

"Jennifer, I'm going to be out back for a minute," he called out to the little girl who was upstairs in her room. He wanted to ask the older lady for her assistance.

"Okay, Daddy."

Roy stepped out on the back deck heading next door when he saw a crumpled blanket on the ground. Picking it up and shaking it out, he recognized it as the spare blanket that his wife kept in the linen closet, the one they often took with them to the beach. He began folding it up, when he noticed it was dirty and had a distinctively male footprint on the corner, a footprint much larger than his own. "What the…"

"Daddy, I wanna swing," Jennifer called out, rushing through the back door onto the deck. When she saw the blanket her father was holding, she began to giggle.

Roy looked at her curiously, still trying to figure out what the footprint could mean. "What's so funny?"

"That blanket," she said, pointing at the faded cloth in her father's hands.

"The blanket is funny?"

"Yea, the other night, I saw a big man's naked booty when he was kneeling on it," she stated, still giggling.

Roy's stomach somersaulted then fell to his feet. Various reasons for his daughter's comments rushed through his mind, none of them acceptable. Had there been a streaker, a peeping Tom or a flasher in the neighborhood? Or, was the reason something much more sinister? "Jen-baby, tell me more about what you saw," he said, careful not to make her fearful of telling him anything. The last thing he wanted to do was make his innocent daughter think she had done something wrong.

"It was when you were working, Daddy. I woke up 'cause I heard this loud man's voice talking to Mommy outside. When I looked out the window, I saw his naked booty."

"Wh-where was he?" Roy asked, afraid of the answer he might get.

"They were on the blanket. He was bending over Mommy's back, and his pants were falling down," she said, giggling again. "Isn't that funny?"

Roy's mind was racing a thousand miles a minute. Jennifer's revelation was something alright, but funny wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

E!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Johnny leaned his hips back against Joanne's car with his feet crossed at the ankles, his hands on either side of his hips gripping the car. He watched as she paced, and listened to her make accusations that infuriated him. The only problem was, he wasn't sure with whom he was most furious – Chet or Joanne. On the one hand, he simply couldn't believe that his crew mate would do what Joanne was insinuating, but on the other, he couldn't imagine her making it up.

"Johnny," the green-eyed woman looked up, clearly on the verge of tears. "You've got to do something. Roy is acting like he doesn't even believe me. If you don't believe me either, then go see Caroline for yourself."

He pushed off the car and stepped over to offer her his shoulder. "Sshhh," he crooned, wrapping his arms around her and halting her pacing. "It's not that Roy or I don't believe you. It's just that we work with Chet and we've never seen this side of him," Johnny said, carefully choosing his words so as not to set her off again.

"Will you at least go talk to him? See what he has to say about it?"

"Jo, I feel like I'm prying into his personal business if…"

"Damn it, Johnny!" She pushed away from him. "This is serious!"

"Look, I know it's serious. I know it is… Is she going to sign a warrant against him?" Johnny was growing more and more concerned for his friend's future.

Joanne looked back down at the ground before answering. "I doubt it. She kept trying to tell me that he didn't do anything wrong."

"Then… maybe he didn't," Johnny suggested in a soft voice.

The seething woman began to calm down a little, her shoulders relaxing visibly. "I don't know. Maybe I should go talk to her again. I told her I'd be back in a couple of hours when I got off work and…," she stopped mid-sentence. "Oh crap, Iris needs me to help her get ready for the funeral."

"Funeral?"

"Yes, I'm only working a couple of hours, but now I'm making her run late." She turned to walk back into the florist's shop. "Please go talk to him, Johnny. I'll go back and talk to Caroline and then maybe we can compare notes."

Johnny waved at the retreating woman. "Okay, I can do that. Try not to worry," he shouted over his shoulder as he walked around the front of the building, got into his Rover, and drove away.

Inside the shop, Joanne began to apologize profusely to her boss. "I'm so sorry. I've had a really rough morning, but that's no excuse."

"Relax, Joanne. We still have plenty of time to get the flowers finished and delivered before the service starts," Iris consoled, her heart still warmed by the young man who had entered her shop earlier.

"Thanks, Iris, I just… Oh no, Johnny didn't place his order. I've cost you a customer."

"No worries… If he wants to make a purchase, then he'll be back. Besides, he may not have been here to buy anything anyway. Lots of folks come in just to browse and then leave. Maybe he saw something that'll make him return soon," she said, cryptically. She had a feeling he would definitely be returning, but whether it was to make a purchase or not, remained to be seen.

E!

Chet stared at his telephone, part of him wanting it to ring and the other part unsure if he wanted to hear what Caroline might have to say. He realized last night just how much he cared for the young mother and now, it seemed that all was lost. How long did a widow grieve for her deceased husband anyway?

"Forever," he mumbled out loud, just as a knock broke through his concentration. He could tell by the forcefulness of the knock that it wasn't Caroline on the other side of the door.

"Ugh, really?" He complained, trudging to the door. Opening it, he was stunned at who was standing on the other side. "Gage?"

"Mornin', mind if I come in?"

"Uh, no… C'mon in," he invited, stepping aside.

Johnny took in the sight of his friend. Chet was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and no shoes. He hadn't shaved and his hair was mussed up. Obviously, he was not happy.

"Want some coffee? I was about to start a pot."

"Oh, sure… S'long as you don't mind company," Johnny said, trying to find a way to broach the subject of Caroline. He watched as Chet walked into his kitchen, stunned that the young man hadn't even asked why Johnny was there. He walked to the doorway between Chet's kitchen and living room, observing as his host made a pot of coffee. "So, how'd the big date go?"

Chet was glad his back was turned to his friend, the question bringing a grimace and eye roll to his face that he didn't want Johnny to see. He finished rinsing the coffee pot then filled it with water. His silence continued as he opened the coffee can, inhaling the rich aroma before carefully measuring out the required amount. He set it on the stove to begin percolating then turned to his crew mate, leaning one-handedly against his counter top.

"Is that why you're here so early, Johnny? Come here to gloat at my misery?" He asked sarcastically.

Johnny's heart thudded inside his chest. Something had happened between Chet and Caroline, and now he knew he needed to push for more details. "It's ten-thirty in the mornin', Chet. That isn't early. Besides, what do ya mean by gloating? Wha-what happened?"

Chet pushed past Johnny, pulling out a chair at his small table. "I really don't wanna talk about it. Let's just say that… Well, Caroline and I won't be seeing each other again," he huffed.

"Chet, I'm… I'm really sorry, man. I know you really cared about her," Johnny said, continuing to search Chet's face and body language for answers. "I really thought the two of you were getting serious."

"Hey, it happens, right. You of all people should know how it feels." Chet regretted his words as soon as they escaped his mouth. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I didn't mean that like…"

Johnny held his hand up to stop the other man's apology. "You're right, don't apologize. But, why do I have the feeling there's more to this than what you're telling me?"

Chet struggled, staring at his table. No way was he going to hurt Caroline's reputation by telling his friend that she got drunk and behaved rather loosely on their date. "It's nothing. Just something between Caroline and me, alright? Nobody else's business," he commented, his voice rising slightly.

Johnny tried to tamp down the frustration he was feeling. "A'right, look. I gotta level with ya. I ran into Joanne earlier and apparently she saw Caroline a little while ago and…," he exhaled loudly. "Joanne somehow got the impression that… Well, that something bad happened between you and Caroline last night."

"Bad, like what?" Chet really had no idea what Joanne might have been thinking.

"Chet, I don't know how else to say it. Joanne is under the impression that you, ah, may have forced yourself on Caroline last ni…"

"WHAT?" Chet jumped up, running his hands through his curly hair and walking away from his friend.

"I know, I know you wouldn't do that, Chet. That's why I'm here. I'm concerned about you… and Caroline."

Chet was shaking his head in disbelief. "Why the hell did she call you?"

"I told you, we just ran into each other. I went into a store and she was there."

"But, she's told Roy, though, right? Where's he? On his way over here to kick my ass? Two paramedics against one lineman really isn't a fair fight, ya know." Chet leaned both hands on the back of the chair he was previously sitting in.

"No one's pitting us against you."

Chet looked back at Johnny. "Joanne needs to be more concerned about what her husband's doing instead of what I'm doing," he voiced loudly, pointing at his own chest.

Johnny looked at his frustrated friend questioningly. "What are you talkin' about?" He asked, eyes squinting.

"Nothing, Johnny, just forget it." Chet turned, walking into the kitchen to pour the coffee, leaving his friend wondering how the conversation had turned to his partner.

"Now, wait just a minute," Johnny called out, standing and following Chet into his kitchen. "Are you accusing Roy of doing something wrong?"

The Irishman felt the steam blowing out of his ears, his hands trembling with anger as he poured the coffee. Returning the coffee pot to the stove, he spun around with a look of mock horror on his face.

"Oh noooo, there's just no way the perfect family man Roy DeSoto would do anything dishonorable is there? Oh, but Chester B. Kelly, now that's a different story. Everyone knows he's nothing but some freakin' scumbag," he raged.

"Just calm down, Chet. Take it easy. No one's callin' you a scumbag."

"Joanne is!" He shot back, his blue eyes widening.

"Look, there's been a big misunderstanding. That's all." Johnny hoped the upset man would settle down a little. Unfortunately, Chet's rage continued.

"Yea, that's right. A big misunderstanding. I didn't do anything wrong, Johnny! I could've… but I didn't. That's all I'm gonna say about it, but…," his voice faded as he nearly fell against the counter, his body weakened by the shocking thoughts rushing through his mind.

"Chet?"

"S-she could press charges against me, couldn't she?"

"No, Joanne has her opinion, but she can't…"

"No, Johnny. I mean Caroline. If she really thinks I did this, then… It's my word against hers… Ohmygod," Chet's voice cracked. "I-I didn't do it. I didn't, I swear." Chet's pleading words nearly broke Johnny's heart.

"Take it easy, buddy. Here, sit down," Johnny ordered, vacating the chair he had been sitting in. He was concerned by Chet's sudden paleness and reached for his wrist.

"S-so, Caroline thinks I hurt her, too?"

"I don't know," Johnny said softly, counting the other man's pulse then releasing his wrist. "Joanne mentioned that Caroline tried to say that you didn't do anything wrong, but…"

"But, you don't know for sure. I mean, she had to have told Joanne something, so…" Chet's eyes grew as large as saucers. "Johnny, what if… What if something happened to her after I left? What if… Ohmygod!" Chet tried to get up. "I have to go to her. I have to check on her. She might be hurt and…"

"No, just… Just stay here. Don't make it worse. Joanne will be back here in a little while to talk to her again. Let's see what she says then, before you go down there." Johnny tried to be the voice of reason.

"Sh-she may need help," Chet kept rambling, staring blankly at the space above the table. "Please, Gage. Ya gotta go check on her for me. Please?"

Johnny stood staring at his friend. He had only met Caroline once and knew that he couldn't just show up to check on her. The problem was, at the moment, Chet didn't need to do that either.

"Joanne would've called for a squad, if she felt like Caroline needed it." He hesitated before continuing, trying to put together the muddled pieces of the puzzle. "Has she called you or anything?"

"No," Chet replied, nearly catatonic.

Johnny ran a worried finger beneath his nose, propping one hand on his hip. He was truly at a loss for what to do. "A'right, listen. Joanne is coming back by to see Caroline when she gets off from work. Let's just wait and see what happens then. Maybe things will have calmed down and Caroline can clear this whole mess up."

"Humph."

"C'mon, you didn't do anything wrong so, surely she'll clear it up with Joanne. I mean, why would she lie about it?"

Slowly, worried blue eyes looked up at John Gage. "She probably doesn't remember it, Johnny…," the dazed man mumbled softly.

"Why not?"

Chet hesitated, desperately wanting to hide the details of the previous night, but knowing that he no longer had a choice. "She was drunk, okay? Ya happy, now?"

Johnny gulped at the revelation. The situation was going from bad to worse. If Caroline was inebriated, then perhaps she did believe that Chet had done the unthinkable. And Chet was right, it was going to be his word against hers.

E!

Roy felt like a brick wall had just crumbled on top of him. His tongue felt sticky, and he realized he was mouth-breathing, his chin having dropped at the information his young daughter had just given him.

"Will you swing me, now?" Jennifer looked up at her father, not understanding that the look she was seeing was one of complete astonishment.

"Huh? Oh, um, yea...," he stammered, still replaying the child's words in his mind.

He walked over to the tire swing in their backyard and waited for her to climb inside. He felt the swing moving beneath his hands as Jennifer positioned herself, and he began to slowly push her back and forth.

"So Jen, who was this man you saw on the blanket?"

"I dunno," the child called out, blonde hair flowing behind her as he pushed her higher and higher. "Somebody Mommy knows; she called him on the phone and then he came over after I went to bed."

Roy's stomach lurched and for a moment he thought he was going to vomit. Was Joanne cheating on him? Was she doing it so blatantly that she called her lover over with the kids at home? Then a thought crept into his mind that began to slowly infect his wounded heart. Was it because he could no longer satisfy his wife? He continued to push his young daughter higher and higher, his mind taking him further and further away from the present moment. Could Joanne be working now just so she could get out of the house and away from him?

"Daddy?" Jennifer spoke up.

Roy continued the mindless activity of pressing his strong hands on Jennifer's back, feeling her long soft hair swishing lightly against his forearms. Was his wife really working because she enjoyed it, or was she using that as an excuse to be out where she could meet with her lover? Who was he anyway?

"Daddy, please?"

He couldn't believe Joanne had called him wanting him to go talk to Chet. Whatever had happened between Chet and Caroline was between them. He wasn't going to get involved; they were adults. Now, he had his own problems going on at home. No, he wouldn't be going to talk to Chet, at least not today.

"Daddy, don't… please?" The little girl's voice began to falter.

Anger began to boil deep within his soul. He worked hard for his family. Maybe he didn't make as much money as some other men did, but that had nothing to do with how much he loved them. How could she do this to him? He continued staring at the small patch of dirt where the kids had dragged their feet to stop the tire swing over the years. He saw the white streak of the little girl's sneakers rushing back and forth as he continued to push her in the swing, his mind in a distant chamber of self-torture.

"Dad-dy… please stop!"

Furthermore, how could she do it in front of their children? Their precious innocent babies knew nothing of the evil in the world and he wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. How could his wife, their own mother, conduct herself in such a repulsive manner when she should've been taking care of their children? Instead, she was outside on a blanket, in a position that she had never been willing to try with him and…,"

"Dad-dy stooooop, aarrgghhhhh!"

Roy's mind was jerked back into the present by Jennifer's terrified screams. His blue eyes widened in shock as he realized just how high he was pushing her. Her small hands were clenched so tightly to the rope that they had gone white, and her tear-stained face, frozen in terror, broke his heart.

"Jen, ohmygod, Jennifer!" He called out, watching as the tire swing reached the peak of its ascent then rapidly returned towards him. He wrapped his strong arms around his crying daughter, stopping the pendulum-like movement of the tire swing and trying to pull her hiccupping body from the black rubber tire. Her grip was so tight around the rope that he had to forcefully peel her small fingers off of it. He clutched her tightly to his chest, cradling her in his arms. "Ssshhh, baby girl. Daddy's got you now. It's okay, honey," he continued to console.

The little girl held onto his neck as if her life depended on it, sniffling while trying to catch her breath. "W-why?"

"Ssshhh, it's okay, Jennifer. I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"W-why d-did you d-do that t-to me?" She cried, ripping her father's heart out of his chest and stomping on it as he continued to hold her trembling little body.

"Jennifer… Daddy's sorry, okay?" He tried to pull her back, to force her to look at his sincere face, but the little girl was still too frightened to release her death grip on his neck. He stood up, still cradling her in his arms, and headed for the house.

Once inside, he sat down in his recliner and began gently moving back and forth. Jennifer had always enjoyed being rocked as a baby, especially when she was crying. It was how he and Joanne had soothed her when she had colic. Now, it was the only thing he could think of to do to settle her down. His anger continued to boil inside his chest as he listened to her sniffling and felt the silent sobs that racked her entire body. He had allowed his anger at his wife to cause him to nearly hurt their daughter. If she had fallen off the swing, he would surely have been on his way to Rampart General Hospital with her at this moment. She would, no doubt, have sustained serious injuries, or worse. He felt the sweat beads popping out on his upper lip and forehead. 'Damn you, Joanne,' he thought to himself silently.

As Jennifer's crying began to soften, he released his tight hold on her, thankful that she had also loosened her grip on him. He looked down into the tear-stained reddened face of his precious daughter and wanted to choke the living daylights out of himself. He was a negligent father and that negligence could have cost him dearly. Never, no matter how long he lived, would he ever forget the horrific screams of Jennifer as she cried out to him in terror, a terror he had inflicted on her. Never would he forget the look on her face at this moment, as her crystal blue eyes, so much like his own, looked questioningly up at him. Her voice was raspy and she continued to hiccup, but her little soul needed an answer to her question, so she spoke up.

"Dad-dy, did I d-do some-thing wrong? Are y-you mad at m-me?" She asked, her small chest heaving.

Roy quickly checked her pulse and respirations, the paramedic in him finally making an appearance. Her respirations and pulse were much too fast. "Sssshhhhh, princess. No, of course I'm not mad at you. You need to try to breathe a little slower though, okay? If you keep breathing so fast, you'll get sick." He knew she didn't know what it meant to hyperventilate.

"B-but you scared m-me," she continued to whine, crying softly. "Dad-dys aren't s'posed to b-be mean."

"No, baby… No, Daddy didn't mean to do that. I was thinking about something else and I didn't realize how hard I was pushing you. I'm so sorry, baby girl. Daddy is soooo sorry," he whispered, his own voice breaking as he continued to apologize while he tenderly brushed her blonde hair away from her face. He had made a horrible mistake; one he would never make again. At the moment, he was glad Joanne was not at home. Hopefully, he would calm down before he saw her again. He just had to decide how to confront her about what he knew.

E!

"Iris… You okay?"

Joanne had been watching her boss, seeing her staring into the spray of purple and pink flowers, unmoving for several moments. This was the third time it had happened since Joanne had arrived.

"Hmmm?" Iris asked, returning to her task.

"I was just wondering if you were alright. You seem a little distant."

Iris smiled softly. "I'm sorry, Joanne. It's nothing, really. I sometimes get lost in the past, that's all."

They continued on in companionable silence, not speaking again until it was time to load up their items for delivery.

"Tell me something," Iris began.

"Sure, what would you like to know?" Joanne said, trying to smile, but her mind still clinging to the memory of Caroline and Chet.

"John Gage, is he from this area? He reminds me of someone I once knew."

"Johnny? Oh, no, he isn't from Los Angeles, not even from California. He grew up in another state and then came to live here with his aunt when he was an older teenager, I think. He's never really told me much about his past."

Iris picked up the two potted plants she had just adorned with bows. "I see. Handsome young man. Is he married?"

"Nooo, not even close," Joanne chuckled. "Well, actually, he came close a time or two, but those are stories for another day," Joanne said with a smile. "No, he doesn't even have a serious girlfriend at the moment. He'd be a good catch for someone, though. He truly has a heart of gold…unlike a couple of other men I know," Joanne murmured, thinking of both her husband and his curly-haired crew mate. She picked up a floral spray and followed Iris to the van.

"And he's easy on the eyes," Iris said with a smile, using her backside to open the back door.

"Haha, yes, he is. He's also the kind of man who feels deeply about things," Joanne continued. "If he's doing something he really believes in, then he gives it all he's got," she said, sliding open the van door and setting the spray inside. She waited for Iris to empty her arms before closing the door and returning back inside the shop for another load. "He's such a caring man, always putting other people before himself…. And he NEVER gives up."

"I have to agree with you there," Iris said, cringing at her mistake.

"What was that?" Joanne asked, needing clarification from her boss. It almost sounded as if Iris knew Johnny.

"I said, I can see that he cares," Iris offered, hoping the young woman would accept her corrected version of her earlier statement.

"He really does, Iris. I think it's what makes him such a good rescue man and paramedic," Joanne continued, gathering up another load of flowers. "Roy used to have that same sense of caring… I just wish I knew what happened to it."

Iris knew that Joanne hadn't intended for her to hear that last statement. She picked up a couple of baskets of flowers and carried them to the door, choosing to ignore Joanne's comment about her husband. Iris knew to keep her nose out of other people's business… Except when those other people were family.

E!

Johnny and Chet continued drinking their coffee in silence, sitting at Chet's table.

"Look, can I fix you something for breakfast? I'm sure you haven't eaten, have ya?"

Chet looked up at his friend before answering. "No, and no thanks. I'm not hungry," he replied, lifting the cup to his mouth.

Johnny felt a sense of helplessness. He had no answers for his friend, but one thing was for sure. Johnny believed that Chet was innocent. But, he also believed that Joanne had seen or heard something that led her to the conclusion she had told him about. Then there was Chet's off the wall comment about Roy. Where had that come from? Johnny's world was becoming more and more confusing. Somehow, he had to find a way to sort it all out.

"Okay, look. I'm getting hungry. So, I'm gonna go round us up a few burgers and fries. You got any sodas here?" He asked the dazed lineman.

Chet gulped, trying to swallow back the sour taste in his mouth. "Um, yea, yea, in the fridge."

"A'right, just hang on, buddy. I'll be back in an hour or so and we'll talk some more," Johnny offered, standing up and heading for the door. "Don't go anywhere."

"Got nowhere to go," Chet muttered.

Johnny sighed, his shoulders drooping. "I know it feels like it right now, but… I promise you, we will sort out this whole mess." Johnny opened the door, but Chet calling his name halted him just as he stepped over the threshold.

"Gage?"

"Yea?"

"Thanks, man."

Johnny nodded in acknowledgement of Chet's gratitude. Around the station, they seemed to be at each other's throats on a daily basis. However, it was all a front, a way of dealing with their feelings. Because the truth was, deep down, they were good friends, and each one respected and appreciated the other.

Johnny closed the door, blowing out his cheeks in frustration as he walked down the stairs and headed for his Rover. He knew his crew mate was in a mess, especially if he and Caroline had been intimate while she was intoxicated. Chet never said that the two of them hadn't slept together, just that he hadn't forced her into the act. Johnny couldn't help but wonder if Chet realized that in the eyes of the law, an intoxicated person was incapable of consenting. He slammed his door shut, donned his sunglasses once again then cranked up his vehicle. As he drove away, he also couldn't stop replaying in his mind the comment that Chet had made about Roy. Chet knew far more than he was telling and that fact frightened Johnny. He had tried to get Roy to open up about whatever was bothering him during the last few shifts, but Roy had always refused. He remembered the way Joanne had seemed so angry at Roy and how she thought Roy wasn't taking her seriously. Something was definitely off with his friend. He just wished he knew what. Johnny eased to a stop at the traffic light and flipped on his left blinker.

"What's going on with you, Pally?" He said out loud as he waited for the light to turn green. There, at the intersection, he vowed to help Chet through whatever the future held for him, but he also vowed to continue talking to Roy until the truth came out. He had spent the last few years as a rescue man, then paramedic. He would never leave someone behind in a bad situation without doing his best to get them out. Now, he had more than one friend in desperate circumstances; he just hoped he had enough energy, strength and wisdom to help get them out – ALL of them.

E!

Inside her apartment, Caroline was just putting Corrie down for her nap, a little earlier than usual. "You and Jennifer must've stayed up late playing last night," she whispered to the sleeping child, pulling the pink and blue blanket up around her shoulders. She returned to her living room, picking up the sweater and folding up Chet's tie that he had left there the previous night. She then sat down, going over everything that she could remember about their date. She knew she needed to speak to him, but did she have the courage to face him after their previous encounter?

As soon as her work was completed, Joanne got in her car and headed back over to Caroline's apartment. She knew she should've called Roy to let him know she would be getting home later than anticipated, but at the moment, she was still furious with him. She pulled into a visitor's parking spot and got out, thankfully noting that a certain white Rover was sitting across the lot.

Caroline heard a knock on the door, jolting her out of her reverie. She made her way to the front door, feeling the achiness in her body as she walked across the room. She looked through the peep hole and saw her friend's auburn-chestnut hair, so she unlocked it to invite her inside.

"Hi, come in. Everything go okay at work?"

Joanne smiled at her friend. It was obvious the younger woman had tried to make herself look a little better. Her eyes were less swollen and the purple sweater that had been on the floor earlier was gone. A man's tie, she could only assume belonged to Chet, was folded up and sitting on the back of the sofa.

"Fine, but how are you feeling now?" Joanne asked, stepping inside and taking a seat in the living room.

"I'm okay, really. You shouldn't worry about me," Caroline commented, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"But I am worried about you." Joanne hesitated before continuing. She hated to ask such a bold question, but she needed to know the answer, not just assuming the worst. "Caroline, I need to ask you something and I want you to be truthful with me, please?"

"Okay."

"Did Chet, um, hurt you last night?" There it was; the question was out there waiting to be answered.

Caroline looked around the room, fidgeting in her seat. The topic of conversation was making her very nervous. The last thing she wanted to do was give her friend the details of what she remembered from her date. But, she knew she had to say something.

"No."

Joanne wasn't sure how she felt about the answer she received. Was she relieved for Chet or was she still worried about her friend? She needed more information in order to sort through this whole sordid mess.

"Alright… Then who did hurt you? And don't try to pretend that nothing happened because I can see that it did," Joanne continued.

Caroline gulped. Who had hurt her? She felt the sarcastic answer of 'when?' rising to the surface, but managed to control her tongue. "I, um, I really need to talk to Chet. I just put Corrie down for a nap. Would you mind sitting with her while I go upstairs?"

Joanne knew that she wasn't going to get any direct answers from her friend, at least not right now. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I have to… please? I'll only be a few minutes," she pleaded, remembering his tie on the back of the sofa. "I need to take his tie back to him."

"Well, I can do that for you." Joanne said reaching for the tie. She had a few things she wanted to say to the young lineman, too.

"No, I really need to do this. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," she acquiesced. "Take your time." She knew Johnny was with Chet so she knew her friend would be alright. She and Chet wouldn't likely get into a heated argument in front of John Gage.

"Thank you," Caroline responded, clutching the tie and walking out the door.

Taking the stairs, she realized just how sore her back was. However, it wasn't bad enough to prevent her from going to see the man she had grown so fond of in recent weeks. She dreaded him opening the door, very ashamed of her behavior from the previous night, but she needed to ask him a very serious question and she hoped he would give her an honest answer.

She stood outside his apartment, rehearsing in her mind how she would react when he opened the door. She couldn't let her embarrassment prevent her from doing what she needed to do.

Inside Chet's apartment, Johnny was cleaning up from their lunch. "Want me to put that in the fridge for you? Maybe you'll feel like eating it later," he asked, pointing at the barely touched hamburger and fries on the plate in front of his friend.

"Um, I'll put it up. I'm sorry I couldn't eat it right now, but I do appreciate it."

A gentle knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Both men looked at each other, each assuming he knew who was on the other side of the door.

Johnny stood up, picking up the plate. "Want me to answer that?"

"That's her knock, Johnny."

Johnny nodded his head knowingly. He watched as his crew mate slowly pushed away from the table and headed for the door. Johnny walked into Chet's kitchen, covered the plate with aluminum foil then placed it in the refrigerator as he heard the front door opening.

Chet looked out the peep hole just to confirm what he already knew. He saw the top of Caroline's head. He exhaled deeply, squinting his eyes shut as if to summon up the courage to face her. Finally, after the second knock, he opened the door.

Caroline looked into Chet's face and immediately saw the hurt he was experiencing. She quickly diverted her eyes. "May I come in?"

"Sure," he said, unable to say anything else at the moment.

Meanwhile, Johnny stepped into the living room and immediately felt out of place.

"Oh, uh, I didn't know you had company," Caroline stammered. "I can come back…"

"No, no. You stay and I'll split. I have a feeling you two need to talk," he said, eyeing Chet.

Remembering that Joanne had dropped Corrie off earlier, Chet asked about her whereabouts. "So, where's ladybug?" The question served as a good icebreaker, giving Johnny time to make his exodus.

"She's taking a nap. Joanne's with her."

Johnny turned the doorknob of Chet's front door. "I think I'll drop by to say hello. I need to talk with Joanne about something anyway," Johnny mumbled, leaving and closing the door behind him.

He jogged down the stairs and over to Caroline's apartment. He softly knocked on the door, waiting for his partner's wife to let him inside. This was a great time for them to compare notes, as she had suggested earlier.

Back upstairs, silence hung in the room like a thick fog. Caroline knew that she had initiated the visit and needed to open up the conversation. She was unable to look him in the eyes, fearing the rejection and disgust she would see there while they talked.

"Chet, I'm really ashamed of how I acted last night. I wish I could take it all back."

Chet couldn't sort out the different emotions swirling around inside his heart. He was hurt by Joanne's accusations and angry that Caroline had not set the other woman straight about what had actually happened. He was also relieved to see Caroline standing here, looking hung over, but otherwise seeming alright.

"It wasn't what happened last night that has me upset, Caroline. It's what Joanne DeSoto is accusing me of today that has me so pissed off."

Caroline continued staring at the floor. Neither one of them had taken a seat, both standing in his living room. Chet stared at her and she stared at the floor. She felt the tie folded up in her hands and handed it to him.

"I found this in the living room this morning," she offered.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the accessory, remembering how she had removed it herself the night before.

A few tense moments passed between them before Caroline got up the nerve to ask the question that had haunted her all day. "Chet… I need to ask you something and I'd really appreciate it if you'd give me an honest answer."

He looked over at her, seeing how upset she truly was. "I've never been anything but honest with you. I'd never lie to you… or about you either, for that matter."

Caroline felt the sting of his words. She knew what he meant. She pressed her lips into a thin line then continued. "Did you use a condom last night? I looked all round this morning, but I didn't see a used wrapper anywhere. All I saw was a couple of unopened ones on my nightstand."

Anger coursed through Chet's veins and he couldn't prevent the venomous words from escaping his mouth. "For cryin' out loud," he nearly shouted, using a phrase he had heard Johnny say over the years. "You don't remember?" He waited for her to shake her head then continued. "No, I didn't. There was no reason to."

"Why?" She asked, her voice cracking at his response. "You knew I wasn't on the p-pill," she sniffled.

"Do you even realize what you're asking me, Caroline? You're acting like I'm some kind of dog who can't control himself," he argued, beginning to pace. "You really don't think very much of me do you?"

"Chet, I… I just…."

"Just what? Just assumed that I would take advantage of you in that condition? Well…," he huffed. "You know what they say about assume, don't you?"

"What?" She said wiping her eyes, her voice barely a whisper.

"It makes an ASS out of U and ME," he said forcefully. "No, Caroline. No, I didn't use a condom because we didn't have sex. You were in no condition for that. Oh, and just for the record, I don't take advantage of situations like the one we were in last night. I'd NEVER," he emphasized, "take advantage of a lady. I certainly wouldn't do it to someone I was falling in lo…," he choked on his words, thankful the phrase that was on the tip of his tongue hadn't been spoken.

"I, um, ahem, I need to be alone right now," he said softly, stepping to the door and opening it.

Caroline took the hint, slowly walking across the floor. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but at the moment her words eluded her. "I'm sorry," she said, knowing it wasn't nearly enough.

Chet nodded his head, unwilling to look at her. As she walked past him, he saw her suddenly spin around.

"Chet… Thank you. Thank you for being such a gentleman," she turned, hesitating when she heard him say something else.

"I'm sorry that I don't match up to Corey. I know you still love him and… I'm here if you need anything, but I guess it's best if we don't see each other. I can't compete with a cherished memory. Please give ladybug a hug… I'll miss her too," he concluded, his throat constricting.

Caroline's world tilted and she grabbed the railing in order to remain upright. He thought she was in love with her deceased husband? He thought he didn't match up to Corey Marks? She wanted to tell him the truth about her marriage, but instead she walked slowly down the stairs. The best man she had ever met had just asked her to get out of his life and she knew it was her own fault. She didn't even try to hide her tears, allowing them to fall unheeded as she limped down the stairs and back over to her apartment.

Chet stood in the doorway, watching her walk away from him. Even in his grief, he noticed her abnormal gait and worried that she had reinjured her back when she fell in the bathroom during her drunken escapade. Before she reached the bottom of the stairs, he closed his door. He needed to get out of his apartment and think for a while. He noticed his huarache sandals beside the door and slipped his bare feet into them. He took his keys off the key holder beside his door. His favorite place to relax was the beach and he needed to let the sounds of the waves and the salty air clear his mind. Locking his door behind him, he stepped out and walked down the stairs just as Caroline reached her own front door. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, Caroline opened her door and a child's high-pitched blood curdling scream flooded his ears, followed closely by Caroline shouting out her daughter's name.

"Corrie!"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Johnny took a seat on the sofa across from Joanne. "They needed a little privacy to talk," he said, opening the conversation. "That's good, don't ya think?"

"I don't know. Something definitely went wrong last night. She just isn't talking to me about it." Joanne's frustration was etched on her face. "What did Chet say?"

Johnny really didn't want to tell her what Chet had confided in him, but he also didn't want Joanne to continue to think Chet was capable of such an evil act.

"Look, what he told me makes a lot of sense, but please don't tell anybody what I'm about to tell you. He didn't even want to tell me." He waited for her agreement before continuing.

"Okay."

"They went out to Niccoli's and Caroline drank a little too much. After they got back to her place, she was in her bathroom where she fell, and Chet helped her get in bed to sleep it off. They didn't... you know."

"They didn't?"

Johnny just shook his head slowly from side to side.

"Then why didn't she just tell me that, Johnny? Why make me think something awful had happened to her if it hadn't?" Joanne wasn't quite sure she was willing to accept Chet's version of the story.

"Maybe she doesn't really remember. Chet says she was pretty messed up, so maybe she thinks something happened that really didn't."

Joanne heaved a big sigh. "I don't know… Poor girl."

"Humph, poor Chet," Johnny said softly. "Jo, please make sure you clear this up with Roy."

"Oh, I will. Don't worry."

Johnny had found a way to gingerly bring Roy into the conversation, and now he had to ask the follow-up question that had been on his mind. "Speaking of my partner, how's he been lately?"

Joanne looked at him with a surprised expression on her face. "Fine… Why do you ask?"

"He's just been kind of down the last few shifts, just not himself. I've tried to talk to him, but he won't discuss it with me."

Joanne thought for a moment. She wasn't sure how to tell Johnny what she thought the answer to his question might be. "Well, we haven't had much, um… quality time together recently, with me working and all, but I think after the last few nights, he may have a whole new attitude," she grinned, looking up just as Corrie walked groggily into the room.

Johnny couldn't hide the blush that he felt creeping up his neck, warming his ears. He knew what Joanne meant, and he hoped she was absolutely right. If that had been the problem with Roy, then Johnny would know just as soon as he got to the station in the morning.

"Mommy?"

Joanne smiled at the toddler who was looking around the room. "She's upstairs talking to Mr. Chet, sweetie. Why don't you come sit with Jo-Jo?"

"I'm hongee," the little girl said with a yawn.

Joanne stood up, holding her hand out, grasped Corrie's, then walked with her into the kitchen. Spying a jar of creamy Skippy on the counter beside the bread box, she had an idea. "How about a peanut butter sandwich and some milk?"

"Yea," Corrie grinned.

Johnny had his back to the kitchen, listening to the conversation between Joanne and Corrie. Joanne was so good with children. He couldn't help but hope that one day, he might find a wife who was just as good with kids as she was. He just hoped that whomever he married wouldn't jump to conclusions quite as quickly as his partner's wife did.

Joanne prepared the sandwich, cutting it in half diagonally and placing it on a plate. She then led the little girl to the small kitchen table.

"Okay, can you sit in the big chair for me?" Joanne asked, putting the sippy cup of milk down beside the plate with the sandwich on it.

Corrie climbed onto her knees and reached for the sippy cup first. She took several long drinks from it before setting it down, then picked up a sandwich half. She took a bite out of the middle and began to chew it up. Suddenly, her eyes got very large, and she began to scream while forcing her chubby fingers into her mouth.

At the sound of the child's frightening cry, Johnny sailed over the back of the sofa just as Joanne pulled the little girl out of the chair. Neither of them saw Caroline open the front door, but they all heard her terrified scream.

"Corrie!"

One look at the sandwich and Johnny had an idea of what had happened. He tried to restrain the bellowing child, but found himself fighting off her mother in the process.

"Hold her arms. Owe! Caroline, stop," he stammered with Corrie still screaming and resisting his efforts to help her. "Joanne, hold her arms for me."

"She's choking! My baby's choking!" Caroline screamed, her own back pain completely forgotten.

Chet had been walking down the stairs when he heard the frantic screams. Without thinking, he raced into the room, hearing both Corrie's cries and Caroline's wails. He saw Johnny trying to hold the child's head while Joanne attempted to restrain her flailing arms. Both were struggling with Caroline who was in a state of panic.

"She isn't chokin', she's… le' go…" Johnny looked up just as he realized that someone else had entered the room. "Chet," he called, tilting his head in the direction of the frantic young mother.

Chet recognized the gesture. He had no idea what was happening, but when it came to taking care of sick or injured people, he knew that Johnny was one of the best in the business. He wrapped his arms around Caroline, and began pulling her back.

"Ssshhhh, let 'im do his job. If she can scream, then she can breathe. She isn't choking. Johnny knows what he's doin'. She'll be alright," he consoled.

Caroline continued to resist him, never taking her eyes off her red-faced daughter.

As soon as Chet removed Caroline from the area, Joanne was able to hold Corrie's arms, freeing Johnny up to do a finger sweep inside the child's mouth. He felt the roof of her mouth, and immediately dislodged a large gummy mass of peanut butter and fresh white bread. He wiped the offending mess on his jeans, then made one more sweep to make sure he had gotten it all. Unfortunately, Corrie had other ideas and promptly bit down on his finger.

"Owie!"

The toddler was startled by his yelp, and released her bite on his finger. The screaming was over and she immediately began calling for her mother.

"Mom-my!"

"See, she isn't choking. She's just scared," Chet tried to explain.

Caroline was only half listening to him, pulling free of his restraint when she heard her daughter calling for her.

"Oh, baby… Mommy's here."

Chet looked and listened as Johnny explained that the peanut butter and bread had simply gotten stuck to the roof of her mouth and it had frightened her. Knowing that Corrie and Caroline were safe, he slowly and quietly left their apartment and continued on his way to the beach.

"Dat a bad sam'wich," the child sputtered.

Snickering sounds filled the room as the three remaining adults heard what Corrie had said.

"I agree," Johnny laughed, wiping the glob off his jeans and looking around for a paper towel and garbage can.

"Jo-Jo will be sure not to feed you a peanut butter sandwich ever again," Joanne grinned.

"Chet, I'm sorry I…," Caroline stopped, realizing that the man who had come running to her aid when she screamed, had left without even saying good-bye.

E!

Roy carried Jennifer to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with cool water, and wiping away her tears. "There we go. Does that feel better?"

The sniffling child could only nod her head.

"Do you want to watch some cartoons, or play in your room? We can have a tea party, or play with your Barbie dolls, or…"

"No… I wanna play by myself," she snubbed, turning and racing up the stairs.

Roy could only watch her retreating from his presence. He couldn't blame her, not after he had frightened her half to death. He scrubbed his face with his hand as he turned to walk back into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He knew he couldn't keep this from Joanne; Jennifer would see to that. After all, it was Jennifer who had spoken up about the unknown man in the back yard with Joanne. That thought sent a new wave of jealousy pouring down his spine like a bucket of cold water. He wasn't sure whether what he was feeling was physical pain or emotional anguish, but whatever it was, he couldn't tolerate it.

He turned on the burner on the stove to reheat the coffee left over from breakfast. As he waited, he pondered the situation he now found himself in. There was a time in his life when he felt confident in his abilities. He had served his country well in the Army. The skills he acquired as a medic had led him to be among the first paramedics to be trained in the state of California. He thought back to the day Johnny had signed up for the program, remembering how he had needed to persuade the younger man about the need for paramedics to save lives in the field. He recalled the night of Johnny's birthday party at Dixie's apartment, and how Joanne had stood up for him to Dr. Brackett. She had told Roy later what she had said, and her words had encouraged him to continue the fight. She was proud of him and what he was trying to do. They had always had a relationship built on trust and honesty. He had felt needed and wanted. She had made him feel confident and capable in a multitude of ways. Now, he felt none of those things. He felt as if he was no longer able to provide for his family, so Joanne had needed to take a job. After the morning he had with Jennifer, he no longer felt capable of being a father. Then, there was the fact that he no longer felt confident with Joanne during their most intimate moments.

He saw the steam rising from the coffee pot, and turned off the burner. He poured himself a cup then walked over to the kitchen table and took a seat. The only place he felt truly competent was at work. His belly rumbled, prompting him to glance at his watch. Joanne was late. Once again, the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach made him queasy. She had said she'd be home around noon, and yet it was nearly 2:00 pm, and he hadn't heard from her. Had there really been a funeral service today? For that matter, had Joanne actually gone to work, or had she used that as an excuse to get away from home to be with the unknown man? He remembered the angry phone call he had received earlier, when she had asked him to go to Chet's apartment and talk to him. Surely she wouldn't have made such a phone call from the florist's shop, would she? Then again, would she have called him from her rendezvous with her lover? Perhaps the phone call was meant to provoke an argument, providing her with an excuse for returning home later than expected. The longer he sat the angrier and the more hurt he felt. He tasted the bile rising in his throat, mixing with the coffee he was drinking and creating a bitter taste in his mouth. Bitter. That was the word he had been searching for to describe how he felt. He was bitter about his situation. And the only way to combat bitterness was with something sweet to offset it.

E!

Chet parked his van in the parking lot, stepped out into the warm sunshine, and headed for his favorite bench. He was thankful that it was currently vacant. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back and allowed the sounds of the ocean waves to soothe his aching soul. He stretched both arms out on the back of the bench and slipped off his sandals, digging his toes into the warm sand. He was at a crossroads in his life, a position he despised. Did he love Caroline? Yes, he was able to admit that to himself now. What were his feelings about Corrie? Being honest with himself, he had to admit that he loved the little girl, too. He grinned a sarcastic smirk, remembering how he had once questioned his own paternity, and had even commented that a man couldn't love a child that wasn't his own as much as he loved his own flesh and blood. Now, he couldn't believe he had ever felt that way. Somehow, being around Corrie brought out his paternal instincts… Instincts he never thought he had, or even wanted to have until that little brown-eyed beauty stole his heart by wrapping him around her little finger. He really thought that Caroline was ready to move forward with her life, that she had grieved for her deceased husband long enough. Now, he realized that she may never be ready to move beyond her mourning.

Seagulls screeched at each other over head, the sound being the perfect accompaniment to the steady rhythm of the waves. A breeze blew lightly across his face and arms, ruffling his curly hair. He took a few deep cleansing breaths, allowing his thoughts to continue drifting back to Caroline Marks. He had no idea why she had accused him of having sex with her while she was intoxicated. He thought he had let her know that he cared about her, and would never do anything to harm her in any way. Could he continue to have a relationship with a woman who didn't trust him? Did he even want to continue it when doing so might mean he would never be the most important man in her life? Could he live with the fact that he might always be in second place?

He lifted his head up, staring across the stretch of sand between the park bench and the water. He glanced to his right, noting how the waves crashed against the rocky shore. They pounded relentlessly, spraying salt water into the air with each splashing wave, losing a little bit of themselves each time. Was he the water and Caroline the rocky landscape? Was he wasting his time trying to move a solid rock when all that was accomplished was losing some of his integrity in the futile repetitive attempts?

Closing his eyes for a moment, he turned his head to the left. He opened them once more and there, in the hazy distance, he could see the Santa Monica Pier. He recalled the last trip he had made to that spot, the laughing families, children squealing and playing in the sand beside the large structure. He had stood on the wooden planks and watched a young couple with their two children taking pictures and laughing as the kids played in the sand. The younger child was a girl, a little younger than Corrie, who was struggling to walk across the sand trying to keep up with her older brother. Was that what he was doing? Was he struggling to navigate the sinking sands of a romantic relationship, trying to catch up with Corey Marks, but only able to walk in the other man's shadow?

"Damn it," he mumbled out loud. Why couldn't he just have a normal relationship for once in his life? All he wanted was the chance to prove his worth to a woman who would allow him to love her without the memory of someone better hanging over their heads?

His thoughts turned to Roy and Joanne DeSoto. He had always assumed they had the perfect marriage, but now he was questioning that thought. He had seen Roy with another woman, and while that in itself wasn't a crime, it did seem suspicious. Maybe their marriage wasn't so perfect after all, but at least Roy had someone to go home to at the end of the shift. He had his family, his wife and kids. Who did Chet have waiting on him at the end of the shift? For a few precious weeks, he had been blessed to have Caroline and Corrie. Now, he felt like he had no one.

He watched as a couple of surfers in shiny black wetsuits, carried their boards into the water, and paddled out in search of the perfect wave to bring them back to shore. It was a lot of work for just a few minutes of fun, but they all said that it was worth the effort. Why did he feel as if he were paddling out into a vast sea of nothingness, with no way to return home? He had no problem with hard work; after all, being a fireman took a lot of strength, both physically and mentally. He just wished that he could feel that sense of fulfillment the surfers spoke of after riding a big one in. Some relationships took more work than others and sometimes you got bruised along the way, but in the end, it was all worth it.

He thought of his captain and the struggles he had been going through with his wife. She had loved him through it all, and now they were rebuilding their marriage. Even in his downtrodden state, he knew that Hank and Rebecca Stanley would come out of this struggle with a marriage that was stronger than it had been before the test. That's what he wanted, a woman like Rebecca Stanley.

Realizing that he was still just as confused as ever, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. He needed to make a decision about where he stood with Caroline. Did he want to risk everything… and lose? Or did he want to protect himself, risk nothing, and miss the opportunity for his happily ever after? He had asked her to leave his apartment, essentially shutting her out of his life. That meant, the next move was his to make…. The problem was, he really didn't know whether he wanted to make another move or just allow what they once had to simply fade away like the receding surf separating itself from the shoreline. That's really what this was all about. He had drawn a line in the sand between them… Now, he had to step across that line, or turn and walk away forever.

E!

"Where did he go?" Caroline asked of no one in particular.

"Um, I dunno. He was just here," Johnny spoke up, still wiping his pant leg with a damp paper towel trying to remove the last of the sticky peanut butter mess.

Joanne stepped just outside the door, and noticed that his van was no longer where it had been parked. She also noted a couple of Caroline's neighbor's eyeing her suspiciously.

"Oh, Corrie panicked for a moment. Everything's fine," she offered with a smile, glad that they seemed to understand. She watched them return to their own apartments before walking back inside.

"His van is gone, so I guess he left. Did he say where he was going?" She asked Caroline.

The young woman shook her head sadly. "Our talk didn't go well," she mumbled.

Joanne cut her eyes at Johnny as if to say 'I told you so.' Johnny arched an eyebrow at her. Obviously, they did not agree on what had happened the previous night.

"I wanna 'nana, peas."

Joanne and Caroline both smiled at Corrie, the excitement having caused them to forget that the child still had not eaten.

"Come on, sweetheart," Caroline said, walking into the kitchen and pulling a banana out of the fruit bowl. She peeled it for her daughter, handing her half of it. "Eat that and then I'll give you the rest, okay?"

"'Kay," the little girl piped up, grinning, her peanut butter trauma already forgotten.

Joanne looked at her friend, hating to leave her in her current state. "Would you like for me to stay a while longer? I really don't mind. Roy has the kids, so I've got all day."

Caroline gave her a weak smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I really think I'd like to be alone now. Corrie and I will be fine."

"Just hide the peanut butter, a'right?" Johnny said, trying to lighten the dark mood. He was relieved when the two women smiled at his comment. "Okay, well, I guess I'll be heading out, too," he said, walking towards the door. "Bye, Corrie," he called out with a wave.

"Bye-bye," she said, smacking on her banana.

Joanne kissed the little girl on the top of the head. "Jo-Jo's going to go now, too. You come back to my house and play with Jennifer any time you want to, okay?"

Caroline knew the comment was aimed at her more so than her daughter. It was Joanne's way of saying that she would babysit any time Caroline needed her to. "Thank you… for everything. I-I really mean it," she said softly to her friend, her eyes downcast.

"I'm here for you, Caroline. Any time, day or night." She wrapped her younger friend in a hug and whispered into her ear. "You're not alone; you've got friends." She then gave Caroline one last look, ensuring herself that the young mother was okay, and walked out of the apartment.

Caroline closed the door, leaning her sore back against it, fighting to dam up the tears that she refused to shed in front of her daughter. "I've always been alone, Joanne. Until my little girl came along, I was always alone," she whispered to herself.

E!

Roy needed to change the oil in Joanne's car, but finding a chance to do that had been difficult since she had begun working. This would have been the perfect day to do it, if she had returned home as promised. Now, he stood before the washing machine, stuffing a load of towels into the basin. He scooped out enough Cheer powder for the size of the load and started the cycle. He looked down at the blanket on the floor of the laundry room, the one he had brought inside, that had the man's footprint on it. Part of him wanted to wash it and pretend that nothing had happened, but the married man in him wanted to face the problem with a fist in the face of the man who had intruded on his happy family. The only problem was that he had no idea who the mystery man might be. He kicked the soiled blanket into the corner then stormed out of the room just as he heard the front door opening.

Joanne turned the knob on her front door and stepped inside. She had expected to be greeted by her husband and children, but instead, the house was relatively quiet.

"Roy?" She called out to her husband, dropping her purse and keys on the table in the foyer.

He gritted his teeth, walking into the hallway and closing the laundry room door behind him. He felt the sarcastic comment forming in his throat and was unable to stop his vocal chords from doing their job.

"So… How was work?"

"Ugh," she sighed, pulling open the refrigerator door looking for some cold soda. She found a quart sized green glass Coca-Cola bottle. She reached into the dish drain, pulling out a pale blue Tupperware tumbler, and began pouring the fizzing liquid. While waiting for the foam to settle, she spoke up. "After you wouldn't go talk to Chet, Johnny came in the shop and I talked to him for a little while. He went over to, uh, address the issue." The bubbles receded and she finished filling the tumbler with Coke.

"Johnny? In a flower shop?" Roy almost started laughing at the absurdity of the idea. "He doesn't even have a girlfriend, so what was my partner doing in Bloomers on his day off?" He felt the heat rising up from his chest. She was going to get tangled in her own web of lies, and he was prepared to pounce.

"I don't know," she began, gulping down several swallows of the refreshing drink before continuing. "My conversation with him made him leave before he placed his order," she grumbled. "Iris was nice about it all, though. I mean, I cost her a customer and she didn't make a big deal out of it." Joanne smiled, turning around only to see Roy standing directly behind her.

Roy was only half listening to Joanne's explanation. The more she talked, the angrier he felt because from what he could tell, she didn't feel the least bit remorseful for what she had done. He inched up behind her, waiting for her to turn around. He wanted to look her in the eyes when he asked the question.

"Who is he?" He whispered harshly.

Joanne moved back a couple of steps, startled by her husband's voice and attitude. "Uh, who's who?"

"Mommy!" Jennifer called out, sailing into her mother's midsection.

"Wow, what a welcome home," she grinned, running her hand along the length of her daughter's golden hair. When Jennifer didn't release her arms from around Joanne's waist, she became alarmed. "Jen? Honey, what's wrong?"

Roy rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming and certainly didn't want to be present for the tongue-lashing he knew was coming. He decided that a preemptive strike might be his best strategy.

"Look, I was pushing Jennifer on the tire swing and I got a little carried away and pushed her too high. She got scared… I-I didn't mean to do it, right Princess?" He asked, running a hand through his thinning auburn hair.

"Jennifer," Joanne spoke softly, pulling the child away from her and looking into the sad blue eyes. "Daddy didn't mean to frighten you," she offered, not allowing the little girl to see the glare she tossed over to Roy.

"But, I-I asked him to stop and he wouldn't. I'm mad at him."

Roy saw the look his wife gave him and, again, shook his head with a sarcastic smile. "I was thinking about something and just didn't hear her, okay. Look, I'm sorry." He looked down at his little girl once more. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Joanne took a step closer to her husband, Jennifer still clinging to her hip. "Really? And what could be more important than taking care of our daughter?"

Roy felt his nostrils flair with anger. Had Jennifer not been present, he didn't know what venom may have spewed from his mouth, aimed directly at Joanne. He certainly could have thrown her question right back at her, but this was not the time or place for a confrontation, not in the presence of their younger child.

In a deep throaty voice spoken through clenched teeth, he spat out the only thing he could say at the moment. He had traumatized Jennifer enough on this day. "I've got errands… Now that you're FINALLY home."

Joanne closed her eyes, one hand still wrapped protectively around Jennifer. "Fine."

Roy pulled his keys out of his front pocket. "Chris is still at his sleep over. He should be home within the hour."

"And when will you be home?" Joanne shot back, unsure how their conversation had taken such a drastic turn in only a few short minutes.

Roy ignored the question. He had no idea where he might be going and even if he did, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing when he would be back home. He was a grown man, after all. He would make his own decisions, and set his own curfew.

E!

Chet walked over to a street vendor and paid for a hotdog and Sprite. He didn't want to add caffeine to what was sure to be a sleepless night. He had to return to the station tomorrow and knew he needed to be as alert as possible. He sat in his van with the windows rolled down, enjoying the late afternoon breeze while he ate his food. When he finished, he noticed that several people were beginning to leave the beach, the sun was falling closer to the horizon where it would soon appear to sink into the Pacific Ocean. He felt his own heart sinking and knew that he had put off the inevitable long enough.

Cranking up the van, he blew out his breath and ran his fingers through his curly hair. He had made a decision, and before he went back on shift, he needed to talk to Caroline.

E!

Caroline sat with her back in the corner of her sofa with her legs stretched out towards the opposite end, Corrie snuggled up next to her. She was reading her daughter a new story in the Mother Goose Storybook she had bought a few days earlier. Corrie listened intently, staring at the beautiful princess in the purple and lavender ball gown. A knock on the front door made both of them look up.

Caroline drew her eyebrows together; she wasn't expecting company.

"Mizzer Phet?" Corrie asked.

"I-I don't know. Sit right here for me, okay?" Caroline winced as she stood up, heading quickly to the door. Opening it, she was taken aback by the man standing on the other side.

"Chet… Won't you come in?" She invited with a smile.

"Um, I-I really can't. I've got shift tomorrow and I, uh, I have a lot of things to get done first," he said shifting from one foot to the other. He stuffed both hands into his front pockets, nervously, then looked up. "I just needed to say that, I…," he began before a squeal interrupted him.

"Mizzer Phet!"

Big brown eyes peeked out from behind her mother's left thigh.

"Hi there, ladybug," Chet said, squatting down so that he was eye to eye with the child. He was nearly knocked onto his behind by the force of the pudgy arms wrapping around his neck, climbing into his embrace.

Chet wrapped both arms around the child, lifting her up while inhaling the scent of her shampoo mixed with the apple sauce on her breath. "You came to pway wiff me?"

Chet stood up to his full height, tear-filled eyes meeting those of Caroline. "No, ladybug. No, Mr. Chet can't play today," he explained softly, rubbing soothing circles on the little girl's back. He looked over her shoulder at Caroline, who stood with tears streaming down her face.

"Chet… Please, I really need to talk to you about all this," she began, her breath hitching.

"I… I can't, Caroline. I just can't be…"

"No," she cried out. "Please, please Chet… Please just hear what I've got to say? You don't know the truth about my marriage. I-I haven't been totally honest with you and… And I want to make it right. I," she sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, glad that Corrie was resting her head on Chet's shoulder and unable to see her crying. "I know I don't deserve another chance, but… Please, at least let me tell you everything before you walk away from me…," her eyes shifted to her daughter still in his strong arms. "From us."

Chet struggled with his emotions, the tingling in the back of his throat feeling like it was going to strangle him. He swallowed a few times, sniffling before he looked back down at her. "I… I don't know if I can," he whispered, the words nearly choking him.

"What you said to me in your apartment earlier today was…. It's been ringing in my ears since you left. You think that I'm still in love with Corey, but…," she coughed a little. "Ahem, the truth is… I'm not… And, I never was," her voice faded away.

"He was your husband, Caroline. He's her father," he stated cutting his eyes quickly at the little girl in his arms, sounding perplexed.

"I know. That's the part I want to talk to you about…when you have time."

Chet was silent for a few moments as he gently swayed from side to side with the child relaxing in his arms. This was not what he had planned. He had wanted to simply say goodbye, but now he stood here, his heart aching more than it had all day. Slowly, he nodded his head in agreement. He needed to hear her out, or he might spend the rest of his life wondering what might have been.

"When my shift is over…," he cut his eyes down at the limp little girl, now asleep on his shoulder. "We'll talk then. Um, is she ready for bed?"

Caroline could only nod her head affirmatively, her sparkling eyes watery with tears. She stood back, watching as Chet walked inside, heading straight for Corrie's bedroom. She stood in the doorway as he laid her down, tucking her beneath the covers, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Caroline allowed the burning tears to sting her cheeks when she saw him stand up again, and step closer to her. More than anything, she wanted to feel his arms wrap around her, his lips pressing firmly against her own. Instead, he walked back down the hallway and out the door. Caroline slowly staggered down the short corridor, wiping her face with her hands. She made sure that the door was locked, then returned to her own bedroom. She had to make things right when he returned off shift. She couldn't let him walk out of her life. She needed him, as did Corrie. Now, she had to convince Chet Kelly that he needed them, too.

E!

Roy stopped at the auto parts store, and picked up the supplies he needed to service Joanne's car. Then he drove around trying to find a place to hang out for a few hours. He needed time away from Joanne and what she represented in his life. He thought about a place he hadn't been in years, a place he and a few Army buddies used to frequent right after they were discharged. It was in a seedy part of town, but it was definitely what he needed to remove the bitterness from his being. Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the establishment, marveling at how little the place had changed in the last decade. He saw a couple of men walking through the dark brown door, noticing the cigarette smoke snaking out as the door quickly closed. He made his way into the building, looking around for a vacant table near the front. The lights were flashing and the music was blaring, but it wasn't the music, the lights, or even the liquor that brought him here on this afternoon. He was here for the entertainment.

Across the room, unnoticed by Roy as he ordered his drink, dark eyes were scanning the interior looking for a certain elusive beauty. The man kept himself in the shadows, watching the waitresses and the dancers, waiting for the shift change. He had learned to time his visits for maximum exposure. That's when Marco saw him. Roy DeSoto had walked into the club. The lineman didn't want to be seen by his friend, and assumed the same could be said of Roy. After all, why would a happily married man be seeking this type of entertainment? The dark-haired man slumped down slightly in his corner seat, praying that he wouldn't be recognized by his crew mate. He continued scanning the room as the next shift of dancers took to the stage. She wasn't among them, but Marco didn't know whether to rejoice or curse. As always, he would have to wait for the next shift of waitresses, and if she wasn't among them, he would make a quick exit. He had vowed to find her, and Marco Lopez was a man of his word.

E!

A/N: The scene with the peanut butter sandwich stuck to the roof of Corrie's mouth was based on a similar event that happened to a friend's granddaughter. The poor scared little girl was running around the house screaming with her mother chasing her – and laughing!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you to those who are still reading this saga. A few readers have chosen to discontinue following due to the characterizations I have placed our favorite firefighters in and I respect that. However, to those who remain, I thank you for your continued support. The series is called "House Divided" so there will be controversy in each story. Thank you for understanding.

Warning: language

Chapter 11

Roy returned home after dark, knowing he was in for a severe tongue-lashing from his wife. He also knew that he deserved at least part of it. However, he felt partially justified in his actions. If Joanne was cheating on him, then why couldn't he enjoy a few hours of relaxation in the presence of pretty young women dancing on a stage? At least they were off limits - after all, there was no touching. He slipped his key into the lock on the front door and tried to enter quietly.

The foyer was dark; the only sound to be heard was the ticking of the clock in the living room. He closed and locked the door, then began his assent up the stairs. With any luck, Joanne would be asleep.

He slowly turned the door knob, gaining entrance to their bedroom. The street light outside the window beside their bed cast just enough glow across it that he could see her form beneath the covers. She was facing the wall, which was not the way she normally slept. If she wasn't asleep, then she was shunning him.

He crept quietly across the carpeted floor, toeing off his shoes as he stepped inside their bathroom. He removed his clothing and prepared to take a shower to rid himself of the rancid cigarette smoke. He stepped beneath the warm spray and quickly shampooed his hair and soaped up his body. After a thorough rinsing, he stepped out into the cold air and quickly dried himself off.

"Shit," he cursed softly. He had forgotten to get his t-shirt and boxers before entering the bathroom. He continued with his nightly ritual, brushing his teeth and combing his damp hair. He turned off the bathroom light before stepping back into the bedroom. He certainly didn't want the light to disturb her if she was sleeping. A silent Joanne was preferable to an angry one.

Quietly, he stepped over to the dresser to get the clothing he would need for sleeping.

"Don't even think about it," Joanne spat out, noting that he was standing naked near her side of the bed.

Roy rolled his eyes, glad the lights were off, then quickly clothed himself for bed. "Wouldn't dream of it," he shot back, reaching for the covers.

"I don't know where the hell you've been, but you smelled like a smoke stack when you walked in here." Joanne never moved. In fact, she was so angry that she had actually enjoyed listening to him tip-toeing around their bedroom trying to be quiet. She knew that he thought she was asleep, but she just had to make sure he knew she had been awake the entire time. She wished she could have seen the look on his face when she spoke up, letting him know that all his careful efforts were in vain.

Roy understood her comment completely. She had been toying with him, pretending to be asleep so that he would make the extra effort to be quiet. He reached down, gripping the covers firmly, then snatched them quickly to the foot of the bed, exposing her to the coolness of the room. If she was going to play games and aggravate him, then he would reciprocate.

"Ugh," she grunted softly. "You're behaving like a child, Roy," she grumbled, sitting up and pulling the covers back up around her shoulders once more.

"Well, better to behave like a child than a…" No, he wouldn't say what he was thinking. The derogatory word was on the tip of his tongue. It was all he had thought about all afternoon, but he refused to stoop so low as to actually verbalize it. He briefly considered heading to the guest room, but chose to climb into bed with his back to hers. He had as much right to sleep in his own bed as she did.

Joanne waited for him to finish his statement, but when he didn't she decided to pursue it. "Than a what?"

"Huh?" He groaned.

"Better to behave like a child than a…what?" She repeated. She honestly had no idea what he was thinking.

"Nothing, Jo. Just go to sleep," he huffed, shifting his position seeking a bit of comfort. He needed to be rested for his shift tomorrow.

Joanne sat up, clicking on the lamp on her nightstand. "Oh no, you don't! You started this, now finish it," she spat out angrily, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at his back.

"Fine, I'm behaving like a child. There, are you satisfied?" He asked sarcastically.

"No… I want to know what you were gonna call me. Don't leave something like that dangling out there and then not finish it," she said, her green eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

"From what I hear, there are a lot of things DANGLING OUT around here," he emphasized, hoping she would understand the sexual connotation of his remark.

"Just what's that supposed to mean? You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Nope, only had two beers over the last five hours or so. I'm stone cold sober. Besides, it's illegal for a CHILD to drink," he smirked. He had found a way to throw her words right back at her.

"Oohhhhgggrrrraaww," she growled. "Please tell me what I did to piss you off so badly, Roy. Obviously, you're really mad at me, and I haven't the slightest idea why. Is it because I asked you to talk to Chet?"

"Nope."

Joanne turned slightly towards him, still unable to see his face. "Then what? Everything was fine when I left for work, so what happened between when I left and when I got back home?"

Roy rolled over so he could glare at her. "Well, now, seems I could ask you the same question about what went on around here during my last shift!"

"What do you mean?" She asked, sincerely perplexed.

Roy exhaled loudly. He had been married long enough to know that when Joanne had something on her mind, she was not going to let it go. He sat up, cutting his blue eyes in her direction.

"You're like a dog with a bone, aren't you?" He cringed inwardly as he thought of the double meaning of what he had just said.

"I don't give up easily, if that's what you mean?" She said through gritted teeth. Then her eyes widened. "Oh, so you were gonna call me a bitch, huh?"

Roy almost told her that he had a different word in mind to describe her, then thought better of it. After all, the word she used was actually nicer than the one he had been thinking of. "Jo… I'm tired and I need to get some sleep. I go back on shift tomorrow. Now just let it go," he said, making a cutting motion with his left hand aimed in her direction.

"You went to a bar, didn't you?" Joanne asked, refusing to relinquish the conversation. "One of those with strippers or go-go dancers, right?"

Roy ran a hand through his thinning hair, leaving a tuft standing up in the back. "So what if I did?"

"You have a family, Roy. You should've been here with us."

Roy's fuse had just been ignited and he knew he needed to make an exit before he exploded. Throwing the covers off his legs, he stood up and headed for their bedroom door.

"Don't walk out on this conversation," she ordered, knowing she was pushing his buttons, but finding herself powerless to stop.

Roy spun around, pointing his index finger in her direction. "Don't you DARE tell me what I can, or can't do! I KNOW I have a family. I KNOW I'm married…" He took a step back away from her and closer to the door. "I," he began, his voice shaking as he turned his index finger away from Joanne and pointed it at himself. "I haven't forgotten… my vows," he said, his chest heaving with emotions. "I… I haven't neglected… our babies for some…," he tried to continue, but found his voice fading. "Damn it!" He turned, stepping out of their bedroom, heading downstairs for the guest bedroom.

Joanne sat stunned in their bed. Up to this point, she had considered their marriage to be as close to perfect as any marriage in the world. They had always loved each other and had a very stable relationship. The only thing that might be considered rocky was Roy's relationship with her mother. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears of shame for her own behavior and hurt from the things her husband had said. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. She repeated the entire conversation over and over in her head, but she still had no idea what he meant. Had she somehow neglected her children because of her job? Did she break her marriage vows by going to work? She didn't think so. Yet, Roy was obviously much more upset than she had originally thought. She wanted to chase after him, wanted to set the record straight. However, she also knew that his life, and the lives of many others, might depend on him being at his best the next day. She had learned a long time ago, never to say or do anything that might jeopardize his rest. This conversation would simply have to wait until he returned from the station.

Slowly, she sank back down in the bed, her tears spilling over, burning her cheeks. Never had she seen this side of Roy. Truthfully, it frightened her. She lay, silently sobbing as she stared at the dark ceiling, until sleep finally claimed her about an hour before sunrise. She had just fallen asleep when Roy began stirring around getting ready for his shift. This time, she wasn't pretending to be asleep, she really was, and she never heard him leave… and never thought about correcting her telephone call with him about Chet. As far as Roy knew, Chet really had hurt Caroline.

Roy closed the door to his house, walking down the sidewalk to his car. He had never left Joanne to go on shift without saying goodbye and telling her that he loved her. It was something they had agreed on years earlier, knowing that each time he left, he might not ever return. It wasn't something he liked to think about, but they both knew it was a possibility. He stood at the driver's side door of his car, contemplating going back inside and apologizing for his behavior. Then he thought of the soiled blanket he had left in the laundry room, and of the scene their young daughter had obviously witnessed. He was grateful that she was too young to understand exactly what she had seen. Now, he wished his mind would prevent him from seeing it over and over again.

He looked up and down the street, wondering if one of their neighbor's might be the unknown man. Was he being watched now? Leaving for a twenty-four hour shift would give his wife and her lover plenty of time for a clandestine meeting. Tossing his duffel bag into the passenger's seat, he jumped in and cranked up his car. He had to rid his mind of the image that Jennifer had unknowingly seared into his memory. As he drove down the street, he forced his mind to think of anything other than what was happening in his home.

He looked at his watch, realizing that he had plenty of time for breakfast. He flipped on his blinker and turned into the familiar parking lot. He always enjoyed his breakfast at The Pourhouse, and today he could use the company of the friendly waitresses.

E!

Chet walked slowly down the stairs at his apartment complex. His blue eyes found their way to Caroline's door, tugging at his heart. What was it that she had to tell him? He had spent most of the previous night wondering what it might be, waking up already tired. He hoped this shift would be a slow one, then realized that would only give him more time to contemplate his situation. He continued on his way to his van, tossing his bag into the passenger's seat and cranking it up. With one final glance at her door, he drove away.

E!

Marco slammed his hand down on his alarm clock, not realizing that he had already hit the snooze button a few times. He had stayed out until well after midnight, and now he was going to be paying the price for it. He forced his sticky eyelids open, then shot out of bed like a bullet. He had not been late to work in years, but depending on traffic, that streak could end today.

Quickly, he jumped into the shower, then gave himself a quick shave. He finger-combed his dark hair before dressing in his uniform. Normally, he would have changed at the station, but he had so little time on this particular morning that he decided to go ahead and dress at home. He grabbed his duffel bag with his extra clothing in it, then grabbed an apple on his way out the door. He hoped that someone had thought to cook breakfast at the station. If not, he just prayed that they would have a slow morning so he could prepare something to eat there. He backed out of his parking space, then pulled out onto the street. He silently rejoiced that today was Sunday, making the streets a little less crowded than they would have been on a weekday.

Yawning, he finally reached his destination and turned into the back parking lot. He stepped out of his car just as a streak of white made the left hand turn. He waited for Johnny to get out of his Rover, both men looking around the back lot curiously.

"My partner's always late, but not yours," Marco stated.

"Yea, I dunno where he could be," Johnny replied, shouldering his duffel bag and walking with Marco into the station. Mike and Hank were already present, but the apparatus bay was empty. "Hope whatever they're out on isn't too bad," he commented, nodding his head in the direction of the bay as he made his way into the locker room.

"Want some breakfast, John?" Marco asked.

Johnny allowed his usual half-grin to spread across his face. "If you're cooking, then you bet I do!" He chuckled, as the locker room door swung closed behind him and he began untucking his shirt.

E!

Roy snapped the lid down on his coffee cup, appreciating the fact that Gretchen had thought to serve him with a to-go cup so he wouldn't be late getting to work. He paid for his meal, leaving a generous tip for the young waitress. Amy's section had been full on this particular morning, but he really didn't mind. He had found the young woman to be interesting when he gave her a ride home a few days ago.

"What time do you get off shift?"

"Oh, I've gotta work until ten this morning," she groaned, blowing her bangs out of her face.

Roy could tell she was tired and wished he was in a position to give her another ride home. "Sorry, Johnny and I are both working today. If we weren't then, I'd be glad to take you home. You look tired," he smiled.

"That's very thoughtful of you," she blushed, wiping down the table with the cloth she had on her shoulder. She thought about what Amy had told her the first day the two paramedics had eaten breakfast in The Pourhouse after she began working there. She had found that both of them had been just as nice as Amy had told her. She flashed Roy a toothy grin, catching his eyes before he turned to walk away. "But, if you decide to eat breakfast here tomorrow, then I could certainly use a ride then," she stated, raising her eyebrows hopefully. "I've gotta work a split shift plus my own, so I've got a quick turnaround today. I'll be dead on my feet tomorrow."

Roy smiled, unable to control the slight blush he felt tinting his face and ears. "When we're on shift, we never know what might happen." He certainly didn't want to commit to anything. He was married, as Joanne had reminded him, albeit unnecessarily, and the position he found himself in at the moment was making him a bit uncomfortable. While he wasn't doing anything nearly as bad as committing adultery, he realized he was treading on thin ice. He nodded to Gretchen as he walked out the door. He walked over to his car, slamming the door shut as he cranked it up, and headed for 223rd Street to start his shift.

E!

Chet pulled to a stop at a traffic light and looked down at his watch again, noting how close he was cutting it on the time. "Shit, I can't be late again, or Cap will hang me from the hose tower." Just as he looked back up, he noticed a familiar gold Porsche backing out of a parking space at the local diner. He knew it was Roy, and his mind took him straight back to what he had seen a couple of days ago. His blue eyes opened wide as he made the connection between the woman, whose hand he saw Roy holding, and the local diner. The waitress uniform was the same one that The Pourhouse waitresses always wore. Obviously, Roy was seeing one of the waitresses from the local diner. Chet smirked as he made the turn onto 223rd Street. Joanne was so busy accusing him of something unthinkable that she didn't even know her own husband was messing around with another woman. For a split second, he thought that maybe Joanne deserved it. However, just as quickly as that thought entered his mind, it once again faded. No one deserved to be treated like that, no matter what she had done.

Chet pulled into his usual parking spot, exiting his van and slamming the door harder than was necessary. He was still upset over the outcome of his date with Caroline. He knew that Marco and Mike would likely want to know all the details and he was in no mood to rehash it. He knew that Joanne had shared her version of events with Roy. He just hoped the senior paramedic would keep his mouth shut until Johnny had a chance to explain what had really happened that night. Chet was in no mood for a lecture from Roy DeSoto, especially since he knew what Roy was hiding.

E!

Hank smelled the distinct scent of bacon and eggs wafting through the bay. He glanced at his watch and noted that it was only five minutes until roll call. He pushed his chair back, determined to make sure his men knew to eat quickly so they wouldn't be late for roll call. His long strides covered the distance between the Captain's Office and the kitchen in record time. Pushing his way through the door, he was surprised to find only three members of his crew present.

"Whoever cooked that, it smells delicious, but don't be late for roll call. Five minutes, fellas… And where's Roy and Chet?"

Johnny didn't bother to swallow his mouthful of eggs before commenting. "Dunno, but at least we don't have latrines, right?"

Hank rolled his eyes, grabbing a piece of bacon before answering his junior paramedic. "Well," he bit off half the bacon strip. "Lopez and Stoker won't, but whether or not you do, all depends on how badly you piss me off in the next five minutes." He grinned at the stunned look Johnny gave him, seeing his other two crew members laughing out of the corner of his eye.

"Could be worse, Gage. C-shift is still out, so he could have you hanging hoses," Mike chuckled.

"By yourself," Marco added, knowing that that particular job was a two-man assignment.

Johnny cut his eyes at both men, then looked back down at what was left of his breakfast. He picked up the last bite of bacon before looking back at his crew mates, worry carving a line above his arched eyebrow. "He wouldn't really do that… Would he?"

"Twit," Hank chuckled to himself as he returned to his office, hearing two vehicles turning into the back parking lot. Five minutes later, he stood in the empty apparatus bay in front of three of his men, wondering when the other two might join them.

Chet rushed out of the locker room, still tucking his shirt tail in, but determined not to be the last man to roll call. A despicable smirk parked itself beneath his bushy mustache as he straightened up to his full height and waited for Roy to join them. They had both been in too much of a hurry to do more than nod at each other in the locker room. If Roy made a comment about Chet's date, the lineman would be ready with a comeback of his own about Roy's secret.

Hank looked at his watch, then at the locker room door just as it opened and a red-faced Roy emerged.

Roy hustled to the line at the opposite end from Chet, figuring the Irishman might have some smart-aleck comment about Joanne interfering in his life. Even though he was angry at her, he still felt very protective and would not allow someone to speak negatively of her; he might say something against her, but he wouldn't stand by and let anyone else do it. He thought about what Joanne had told him Chet had done, and wondered if the young man was capable of such an act.

"Well…," Hank began, pausing for added effect. He eyeballed Roy to his left, then swept his eyes across the three who were on time – Marco, Johnny, and Mike – ending his gaze by locking his eyes on his younger lineman. "Glad you two could join the rest of us here, today."

"Sorry, Cap."

"Yea, sorry," Chet piped up, not wanting Roy to be the only one who apologized for his tardiness.

Hank looked back down at his clipboard. There was a memo on top asking all captains to remind their crew about off duty conduct. "Gentleman, I'm being asked by Headquarters to remind you that your off duty conduct should never reflect negatively on the department." Before he continued, a snort echoed from the group. Hank shot his hazel eyes up to see Marco and Johnny glancing in Roy's direction. He did not see the eye roll Chet made after hearing Roy's response. Hank chose to ignore the remark, for the moment, and returned to the task at hand. "Ahem, anyway, it seems that someone decided to go watch his kid's baseball game while wearing one of our county fire department t-shirts, then proceeded to heckle the referee. The heckling turned into a free-for-all after the game, leaving the unnamed man on suspension without pay."

Roy, being the only subordinate in the line-up with children, simply shook his head. He couldn't imagine how anyone could do something to embarrass his family and the department. He looked back as his superior walked down to the end of the line, facing him directly. Roy already knew what his chore assignment would be. "Alright, Roy and John, I've got some fire inspections for you to do today at a few of the local eating establishments. Make sure…"

"Better warn the waitresses," Chet grumbled a little louder than he had intended. He didn't see the glare that his engineer gave him, nor the arched eyebrow of Johnny.

"Care to repeat that comment, Kelly?" Hank asked, growing more and more perturbed at the attitudes he was seeing in the line-up.

"Uh, no… no sir."

"Very well, then I'll take back the floor, if you don't mind. I am still the captain of this shift."

"And we're glad you're back here with us," Johnny said, wondering what he had done to cause Chet to insult him.

"Thank you, John. I'm really…"

Roy heard Chet's earlier comment, also assuming it was aimed at Johnny. As the conversation between his partner and their captain began, he leaned his upper torso over and looked down the row at Chet. "At least Johnny wouldn't make a move without an invitation," he shot back.

Four sets of stunned eyes opened wide at the brazen comment.

Chet leaned out of line far enough to see the man who had just insulted him. "I wasn't talking about Johnny."

Hank felt his anger beginning to swell within him. He was losing control of his men and he had no idea why. The behavior he was seeing would not have shocked him if it had involved Chet and John, but it was Chet and Roy who were engaging in a verbal sparring match at the moment.

"Oh, so you, of all people, are saying that women shouldn't be around me? Ha!" Roy scoffed.

"Fellas, drop this nonsense now," Hank warned.

"Roy, you better tell your wife to stay outta my personal life, or…"

"Hold it!" Hank said raising both hands.

"You leave my wife outta this," the older paramedic warned, incensed by what he had just heard.

"Well, seems you've been the one leaving her out," Chet called out, having no idea of the direction Roy's mind would take at that comment.

Roy felt as if he were about to have an out-of-body experience, blowing up at Chet Kelly. He raised his index finger and pointed it at the shorter man at the end of the line. "How the hell did you...?" Roy questioned, assuming Chet had somehow found out about his amorous inability of late and possibly Joanne's perceived unfaithfulness.

"Cause I saw it."

Marco knew that Roy was at the boiling point. He took a step closer to the fuming man, raising his palm and placing it against Roy's chest. Mike had the same idea about the man to his left and assumed a blocking stance in front of Chet. Neither man wanted to see their crew split up over a fight, yet both feared that was where the conversation was quickly escalating towards. Johnny continued whipping his head from side to side following the words as if he were watching a tennis match, a stunned expression on his face. He kept trying to interject his own words, but was quickly cut off each time. That left him looking like a gasping fish out of water.

Hank, however, was fed up. Using both hands, he slammed the clipboard down on the concrete floor, breaking the instrument and sending his pen skittering across the gray expanse, stopping when it reached the brick wall near the kitchen door. The loud sound of the clipboard meeting its demise echoed within the empty bay, silencing all parties.

"DeSoto, Kelly, in my office, NOW!" he demanded. "Lopez, you've got kitchen duty, Stoker, take the dorms, Gage has latrines," he spouted off as he turned to follow his two men into his office.

"But, I wasn't the last man here," Johnny mumbled, still stunned by what he had just witnessed.

Hank had somehow managed to hear Johnny's comment, even though his ears were pounding from his elevated blood pressure. "Because you need a haircut!" He tossed over his shoulder, too angry to think of anything else to say at the moment.

"Damn, guess you did manage to piss him off in only five minutes," Mike commented, uncharacteristically. He wanted to somehow bring a sense of normalcy to a situation that was anything but normal.

"What was that all about?" Marco questioned his two shift mates as they continued to stand around flabbergasted.

Johnny thought he understood most of it, but he wasn't about to divulge anything he knew to anyone. John Gage was a man of his word, and he had promised to keep what he knew to himself.

Hank charged into his office on the heels of Roy and Chet. He didn't want to leave them alone with each other for any length of time. He slammed the door shut with enough force to rattle the pictures on the walls. Piercing hazel eyes stared at the two men, neither of whom was looking back. He deposited one hand on his narrow hips, using his other hand to point a finger at the men in front of him.

"Both of you look at me and don't you dare say a word!"

Two sets of blue eyes looked up, simultaneously.

"Sit!" He ordered through gritted teeth, and both men complied out of a combination of respect and fear.

Chet crossed his arms over his body, feeling the heat rising from his chest up around his neck. He could feel the veins in his temples throbbing and briefly wondered if he was about to have a stroke.

Beside him, Roy slumped in his chair, propping one elbow on the arm, and strumming the fingers of his free hand along the opposite chair arm. He felt like a child in a school principal's office, then chided himself for the comparison; Joanne had referred to his behavior last night as childish.

Hank stared at the scene before him, wondering once more what might be going on with his senior paramedic. Captain Shep's visit to him the previous week replayed in his memory. He allowed the silence to make his men even more uncomfortable as he paced in front of them. This was a dilemma he had never found himself in. He had mediated plenty of disagreements in his career, but never at 51's. His crew had always been the epitome of professionalism, leaving him stumped as to what had gone so horribly wrong between the two men before him.

"I don't know what the hell just happened out there," Hank said in a raspy voice, pointing towards the apparatus bay. "But I'm damn sure gonna get to the bottom of it right now, or I'm sending both of you home on suspension without pay. The citizens of this great county do NOT pay us to jeopardize their lives because of some pissing contest among ourselves." Hank had learned a long time ago to always count himself as one of the group while referring to the entire crew as one single unit. They had to remain a cohesive team at all costs, and he chose his words to reflect that idea at all times. "Now, I want to know what's going on between the two of you and you better stay cool, calm, and collected while telling your story. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Roy stated, worriedly. He certainly couldn't afford time off without pay, not with a young family to support.

"Yea, Cap. I got it," Chet groaned.

Hank sat strategically on the corner of his desk, elevating his position both physically and mentally. "Alright then… Spill it."

TBC 


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: It took me a little longer to post this chapter because I've been on vacation. Thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy this one.

Warning: language

Chapter 12

Chet watched as his captain's black shoes walked past his field of vision, stopping at the edge of the wooden desk. He heard the command for the two of them to 'spill it' and wondered if Roy was going to throw him underneath the proverbial bus. He knew there was no way Roy was going to say anything about his new girlfriend from The Pourhouse. Chet still had no idea which waitress Roy might be seeing. The only sound he heard was his own breathing, and he knew they were both pushing their captain nearer and nearer to his breaking point.

"I'm waiting… but not for much longer," Hank growled.

Roy shifted nervously in his seat when he heard his captain's fire-filled voice giving them a second order to explain their behavior. He knew they were running out of time. He straightened up in his seat, clearing his throat. He couldn't afford any time off without pay and assumed the same could be said for the angry lineman who sat next to him.

"Ahem, Cap, it's really a private matter between the two of us," he offered, knowing the older man would not accept that answer.

"Maybe it started out that way, but both of you made it public when you brought it with you to the station this morning. Now, I'm only going to say this one more time. Tell me what's going on between the two of you, or I'll go ahead and start the paperwork for the suspension of you both." Hank really hoped he wouldn't have to make good on his threat, but as a captain it was his duty and he would carry it out regardless of his personal preferences.

Chet exhaled loudly, not wanting to speak up and yet knowing that suspension wasn't an option for either of them. His heart thudded inside his chest and he wondered if the other two men in the room could hear it. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry to complete the task, and, for a moment, he thought he might choke on his tongue. Finally, he released his arms from across his chest and leaned forward. He would say as little as possible, still unable to look his superior in the eye.

"Um, Joanne and I kinda got crossed up yesterday," the lineman mumbled.

"Crossed up?" Hank knitted his eyebrows together, looking back and forth at his men. He noted that the two of them did not look at each other, and Roy made no move to contradict what Chet had said.

"Uh, yes sir," Chet confirmed.

Hank inhaled a cleansing breath. He hadn't been given much to go on, but at least one of them was talking. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Alright... Roy?"

The paramedic continued looking down at his own feet. "Like he said, they got crossed up."

"And is this, um, crossing up still on-going?" Hank's patience was wearing thin.

"Johnny was gonna talk to her and clear it up. What she thinks happened didn't happen. It could've happened, but it didn't happen," Chet tried to explain.

Hank rolled his eyes. Somehow hearing John's name mentioned along with the confusing statement actually made sense to him. "Okay, and did John clear it up, or not? The two of you were about to come to blows and I will NOT have that kind of behavior happening on shift."

"I, uh, haven't had a chance to speak to him about it yet." Reluctantly, Chet looked to his right. "Did she say anything to you, Roy?"

"No, nothing other than when she called wanting me to talk to you about what you did," Roy said in nearly a whisper.

"Didn't do," Chet corrected.

"For heaven's sake, just spit it out. What the hell is this all about?" Hank ordered, his voice rising along with his blood pressure.

Chet gulped audibly. The heat of his embarrassment crawled up his chest, crossed his face and settled in beads of sweat along his forehead. He found himself unable to remain silent. "Joanne thinks I forced myself on Caroline. There, I said it. Are ya happy, DeSoto?"

Roy ran his hand through his thinning hair. Hearing Chet say it out loud made the accusation seem even more unlikely. He tried to swallow the lump he was feeling in his throat while shame colored his face. If Joanne was having an affair, the marital equivalent of lying, then perhaps she would lie about Chet, too.

"No… No, not at all. I, um, I don't really believe her anymore," Roy said, his voice trailing off as he looked away from the upset lineman.

Chet couldn't stop himself. He jumped up, both hands spread out at his sides, questioning what he was now hearing. "WHAT? How can you say that? You made me spill my guts to Cap about something so private and embarrassing and then you tell me you don't believe her? I don't get it, man," he argued, shaking his head.

"Sit back down, Chet," Hank commanded, although his voice was much softer than it had been earlier.

Chet melted back into his assigned seat with a huff. He exasperatedly began running his hands through his curly dark hair, briefly locking his fingers behind his neck. He slammed his right hand back down on his thigh. "I don't believe this," he muttered to himself.

Roy felt as if his entire world was falling apart. His wife, the woman he had pledged to love for the rest of his life was apparently cheating on him. She had accused his shift mate, a man he had always considered a friend, of committing an atrocity that Roy knew he wouldn't commit. Now, he sat here in his captain's office, in a position of having to choose between Joanne's version of events and Chet's. He never thought he would end up taking sides against his wife, but that seemed to be what was happening. He had simply lost his faith in his beloved spouse.

"I'm sorry, Chet."

The Irishman looked over to his right and noted the lost look on the paramedic's face. He drew his eyebrows together in confusion. "Sorry?"

"Yes… I'm sorry for her accusations. I don't understand why Caroline hasn't just set the record straight, but that really isn't the point now." He allowed his somber gaze to drift over towards his silent captain.

"And, I'm sorry for how I acted this morning." Roy looked up at his superior, feeling the pressure of the hazel eyes staring at him. "I'll sign the acknowledgement for my suspension, Cap. This was my fault, not his," he stated remorsefully, jerking his head quickly in Chet's direction.

"I see," Hank said, standing. He stepped over to the filing cabinet, pulling open the top drawer. He thumbed through the folders in search of the form he had never used, and had never thought he would have to use with this particular crew. "In order to assure our citizens that they are being protected by a cohesive unit, I really have no choice but to do this, Roy. I have to know that all six of us can work together without anything hindering us and…"

"We can work together, Cap. Don't do it. Don't suspend him. If he can work with me, I can work with him," Chet said hopefully, remembering how Roy had stood up for him during his own period of duress.

Hank looked over the open drawer at the two men. He paused, allowing each one to think about what the other had said. When neither spoke up, he addressed them both. "Roy, Chet, can you each assure me that you won't let your personal issues affect your job performance?"

"Yes sir, Cap. I promise. I won't bring it up again." Roy's blue eyes brightened slightly.

Chet looked at Roy, realizing how relieved the other man appeared. "Me, too. No problem working together. I won't mention it again, either."

Hank waited a moment then slammed the drawer shut. "Alright, as soon as the engine gets back, I want the two of you to hang hoses – together. Until then, I want you both finishing up the latrines for John. I want you to prove to me that you can work together before I allow you to stay for the entire shift. If I see or hear so much as a peep out of either of you, I'll have you back in here. Understood?"

Both men agreed, and began to stand.

"Chet, go ahead and take Johnny's place, and send him in here. Roy, I want to talk to you alone for a moment."

Chet gave Roy a brief glance before heading for the door. He wanted out of the office in the worst way, but couldn't help wondering if his alleged poor conduct with Caroline was going to be the topic of conversation when he left. He closed the door behind him, walking across the empty bay heading for the latrine.

"Sit back down, Roy," Hank began, watching for a reaction from his senior paramedic. "I'm worried about you. Something's wrong; this isn't like you. If you tell me what's going on I might be able to help. Will you give me a chance?"

Roy sank down in the seat, not wanting to share his own private agony of betrayal with his captain. He once again stared at the floor, willing his aching heart to quiet its pounding inside his chest. "I'm sorry, Cap. It won't happen again."

Hank listened closely, both to what was said and what wasn't said. "Roy," he spoke, taking a seat at his desk, placing himself at eye level with his paramedic. "That wasn't my question."

Roy began picking at his fingernails, and brushing off his pristine navy blue pants. He busied himself to keep from having to meet the gaze of his officer. "It's, um, it's complicated."

"You and Joanne?" Hank knew that only a very personal family matter would cause Roy to behave the way he had this morning.

Roy, unable to verbally acknowledge the truth, merely nodded his head.

"It's more than just a misunderstanding with Chet, isn't it?"

Again, Roy only nodded, tapping his shoes nervously on the gray floor.

Hank leaned forward, hurting for his crew member. He knew the pain of marital discord first hand. "I'm not trying to pry into your personal business, Roy. But I do want to remind you that you were there for me when I needed someone, even though I didn't realize it at the time. I'm here for you now, if you'll let me be."

Roy gulped, not at all comfortable with the emotional offering from Hank. "I, um, I appre-ahem, I appreciate that," Roy stammered out. "I'll be fine, though."

Hank knew not to push it. He had already said more than he had wanted to say, but felt that it was needed. "Okay, it's up to you, Pal. But if you need me anytime, day or night, you let me know."

"Yes sir, I will," he said, standing.

E!

Johnny stood in the latrine, staring into the mirror over the sinks. He turned his head from side to side making sure his unruly dark hair didn't go below the collar of his light blue uniform shirt. He repeatedly lowered and raised his shoulders, studying how each movement made his hair appear shorter and then longer. Had he somehow stood in such a way as to make his hair appear below regulation length? He knew he always pushed the limits, but he had just gotten his hair cut the previous week. He knew he had worn his hair longer on occasion than it was today, and yet today was when his captain had raised his voice and punished him for it. Finally, giving up on figuring out why his hair was thought to be too long, he began sweeping the concrete floor, continuing to mumble to himself.

Suddenly, the door opened and a long-faced Chet Kelly walked in alone, his hands stuffed into his front pockets. "Gage, Cap wants to see you."

"Uh-oh," Johnny said out loud, assuming he was in deeper trouble than he thought regarding his hair. "So, um, how'd it go with you and Roy?"

"Well, we aren't suspended…as long as we can work together. He, um," he hesitated, leaning a hip against a sink. "He didn't tell Cap what Joanne said. In fact, he didn't say anything. I'm the one who told Cap what happened."

"Damn," Johnny said, propping the broom into the corner. "You okay?"

"Yea…," he said, his voice trailing off. "He said she never changed her story... even after you talked to her."

"What? But I told her exactly what you said," he spoke, his arms flailing animatedly. "She seemed like she was beginning to doubt it herself."

"Well, she didn't share those doubts with him," Chet said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the bay.

"Maybe I'll have a chance to talk to him between runs," Johnny offered.

"When you get a chance, tell him that if he'll just leave me alone, then I won't tell Cap about his…" He stopped, realizing that Johnny might not know about Roy and the waitress. "Aw, never mind. You better get going before Cap comes after you."

Johnny stood dumbfounded. He had no idea what his friend had been about to say. Finally, he walked to the door, reaching out to push it open.

"Hey, Johnny?"

"Yea?"

"Thanks, man. Thanks for believing me and for… well, you know," Chet offered, pulling out the scrub brush to begin working on the toilets.

Johnny nodded slightly, knowing what Chet meant. This was the second time in recent months that Johnny had shown Chet how deep their friendship had grown. He pushed through the door, allowing it to swing shut, as he made his way across the empty bay to the closed office door.

He exhaled as he lifted his hand and knocked swiftly on the door. He was surprised when it was his partner who opened the door, his face long and filled with sadness. John wondered briefly what had transpired between Roy and their captain after Chet had left the room. He watched as Roy walked past him, a forced smile quickly appearing then disappearing from the older man's face. Johnny then turned his attention back to his captain.

"Come on in, John."

E!

The bright Sunday morning sunlight slowly crept up the comforter beneath which Joanne DeSoto slept. It had been nearly dawn by the time she drifted off after she and Roy had gotten into a rather heated argument. Slowly, the sharp fingers of light reached her face, and she began to stir. She was startled by the brightness in the room, realizing that it was well past the time when Roy normally left for work.

She threw the covers back on the bed, grabbed her robe and scurried down the stairs to the guest bedroom. She had to get Roy up as quickly as possible, knowing he was already late for shift. When she pushed open the door, she found the bed already made. She peeked out the window at their empty driveway, covering her mouth with her trembling hand. He was gone. For the first time in their married life, he had left her to go on shift without saying goodbye.

She allowed herself to drop heavily onto the twin bed where her husband had spent the night. Slowly she ran her fingers over the red, white and blue stripes on the bedspread, noting how neatly he had made it up; his corners were absolutely perfect. "Oh, Roy…"

Perfection. It was something Roy was constantly striving for and for the most part usually attained. She thought back to the first few months of his pairing with John Gage, and allowed a chuckle to escape her tearfully-trembling lips. She had stood in the shadows and watched as her husband had endured one exasperated moment after another when it came to his fun-loving partner. Johnny was as laid back as Roy was wound tight, but one thing they definitely had in common was their constant need for perfection on the job. Neither man would settle for anything less. A sniffle and a quick swipe of her hand removed all evidence of the emotions she was fighting.

She had always considered their family to be the perfect example of the American dream. They had a home and two children, a boy and a girl. They didn't have a lot of extra money, but they had been comfortable. She had watched Roy work so hard while the children were babies. Now, all she wanted to do was add a little extra income to their household; to be able to relieve him of some of that stress as the children grew older.

Instead, she sat in the guest room alone, the children still in bed, and her husband gone to work without so much as a kiss on the cheek. Her perfect world was crumbling, and yet she felt powerless to stop it. She stood up, straightening out the small wrinkle she had left in the bedspread, and headed for the kitchen to cook breakfast for Chris and Jennifer. She had to make a decision, one she never thought she would have to make. Should she continue with her part-time job, or should she work out a two-week notice and straighten the crooked course down which the DeSoto household seemed to be quickly following?

E!

Johnny shifted nervously from one foot to the other as his captain returned to his chair.

"Have a seat, John," Hank said, gesturing to an empty chair beside the desk.

"Yes sir, uh, Chet said you wanted to see me."

"Yea," Hank began, rubbing a hand over his lower face. "I owe you an apology, John. I shouldn't've yelled at you at roll call."

"It's okay, Cap. I'll, um, I'll get another haircut after shift tomorrow," he offered, propping his elbows on the arms of the chair, clasping his fingers together. He tried to elongate his neck so that his hair appeared shorter, but felt like an anxious turtle. He cleared his throat, finally allowing his shoulders to relax in a more natural position.

"Not necessary… I was just so damn mad at those two twits, that it was all I could think of at the moment. They'll finish the latrine for you. Why don't you see if Marco needs any help in the kitchen?"

Johnny knew he was being dismissed, but he also felt like he needed to explain the truth as he knew it. "Cap… I don't know exactly what's goin' on, but what Joanne said Chet did, he didn't do."

Hank leaned forward, elbow resting on the corner of his desk. He allowed a hint of a smile to be displayed on his rugged face. "And, you're sure?"

"Yes sir. I talked to him for a long time yesterday morning. Um, he asked me not to tell anyone 'cause it's kinda embarrassing for Caroline, I guess, and he wants to protect her and all, but…"

Hank held up his hand. "If you tell me he didn't hurt that young lady, then I'll believe you. Somehow, I just can't see him behaving like that anyway. You don't have to tell me anything; confidences between friends are sacred." He waited a moment, hoping his younger paramedic might take the bait and divulge something useful about Roy.

"It's Roy I'm not sure about. I talked to Joanne briefly about him yesterday, but she didn't seem to know any more than me."

Hank couldn't hide his disappointment. He needed his men to be at the top of their game, all of them. "Well… If you come up with anything, or if you know of a way I can help, then just let me know, alright?"

Johnny once again nodded not really knowing what to say or do at the moment. He stood up to leave, looking back down at his superior. "Cap?"

Hank looked up at the sound of his nickname.

"Thanks. They're both good guys, and I know they'll work together with no problems during the shift," he offered, hoping to reassure Hank that he had made the right decision in not suspending either of them.

"I hope you're right, John."

E!

Two hours later, the previous shift had returned and gone home. Hank stood in the shadows of the station watching his two wayward crew members sweating as they hoisted the wet hoses on the hose tower. He sipped his coffee, one hand on his hip, as he listened and watched for anything that might lead him to believe they couldn't work together. He knew that hard work was good for men who were angry, helped them get their frustration out in a more constructive way. They had already cleaned the latrine together, silently. At least now, they were talking as they worked. It wasn't the usual friendly banter he normally witnessed from his crew, but they were communicating and working together. The sound of a slamming door caused him to look behind him. Johnny was finishing up the morning calibrations and inventory check, returning the biophone to its designated compartment. Their eyes briefly met and Hank nodded toward the tower.

Johnny's gaze shifted over the older man's shoulder and a slight crooked grin crossed his face. As always, Hank's plan seemed to be working. He dipped his head, a silent acknowledgement and wordless thanks to his superior for his wisdom and judgment. There was no doubt, his captain was back to normal.

Johnny had just turned towards the kitchen when the klaxons sounded. He executed an about face and quickly slid into the cab of the squad waiting for his partner to appear.

Behind the station, Chet and Roy heard the familiar tune. Chet watched as Roy shimmied down from the tower, making sure he didn't need any assistance, then jogged quickly to his seat on the engine.

Marco climbed in behind his engineer, feeling the rumble of the rig coming to life as Stoker started it.

"Station 51, man injured in a domestic dispute…"

Hank wrote down the address, listening to the disturbing details, then picked up the mic to acknowledge the call. "Station 51, KMG-365. Do we need to stage for this call?"

"Affirmative," the dispatcher quickly responded. "The suspect has reportedly fled the scene, but the ETA on law enforcement is three minutes."

"10-4." Hank realized that the sheriff's deputy would likely arrive on-scene before he and his men could get there, and anticipated being given the all-clear before they arrived. However, he would not knowingly jeopardize the welfare of his men by approaching an unsecured environment. He passed the slip of paper with the address on it to Roy. "We're going to stage at the Union 76 Gas Station on the corner unless law enforcement secures the scene before we arrive."

Roy nodded in understanding, passing the slip of paper to his partner just as the bay door rose.

Soon, the two emergency vehicles were heading down the street on their way to the scene of a domestic dispute.

Johnny looked over at his sweaty partner, noting the determined expression on his face. He leaned forward slightly, his hand on the dash, watching for any wayward drivers. His job as navigator involved more than just consulting the book of maps. His dark eyes were looking forward, occasionally darting to his right then returning to a forward stare, his chin strap blowing in the wind. "Take a left at the next light." Johnny said, watching as the sea of vehicles parted in advance of the approaching vehicles.

"Station should be just ahead on the right," Johnny instructed as Roy made the turn.

Roy followed the verbal instructions, trusting his partner completely. Ahead, he saw the orange 76 sign and pulled in beneath it, allowing Stoker enough room for the engine as well.

"Man, I hate these calls," Johnny complained. Too often, domestic disputes ended up with one of the rescuers being injured as well.

"So do I." Roy shifted into park just as the dispatcher spoke again.

"Station 51, your scene is secure."

"10-4," Hank responded, then continued with the notification of his squad. "Engine 51 to Squad 51."

Johnny had already removed the mic from its bracket holder in anticipation of the call while Roy pulled back out into the yielding traffic. "Squad 51, copy direct."

Roy pulled to a stop along the curb, nose to nose with the Sheriff's Department car. Vince Howard was standing in the open door of his patrol car communicating with dispatch.

"I need a BOLO issued on a male subject, age 14, wearing a brown button down shirt worn open over a striped t-shirt and jeans with a Dodgers baseball cap. Consider the suspect armed and dangerous. Last seen running south on Oak Avenue."

"10-4."

Hank made his way over to the deputy as the 'be on the lookout' request was being broadcast. "What've we got?"

Vince looked over his shoulder at the crew who seemed to be busily pulling equipment out of the compartments of the squad. The linemen were assisting the paramedics while Mike Stoker stood sentinel over the vehicles.

"Male, victim of a gunshot wound in the upper left shoulder. Wife's pregnant. The alleged assailant is her son. Victim said it was his own Smith & Wesson Model 14 K-38 revolver."

Hank whistled lowly. "Single?"

"Double action," Vince corrected.

Hank had seen similar situations occur before and surmised that there would be injuries to the wife as well. He nodded his understanding, turning to face his crew.

"Alright, we've got a pregnant female and a male with a gunshot wound to the shoulder from a 38 caliber revolver inside. The alleged shooter is her son." Hank rattled the information off quickly, knowing that time was critical.

Chet and Marco pulled the stokes out of the back of the squad, filling it with blankets, portable oxygen and the OB kit. Johnny and Roy grabbed the remainder of the gear and led the others into the front of the house. They found their victim propped up against the sofa with his legs extending beneath the coffee table. His wife, holding a bloody cloth against his shoulder near his collarbone, looked up at the men when they walked in. Her face was tear-stained and a reddened area was beginning to form a bruise wrapping around her wrist.

"Let's get this coffee table moved outta the way," Johnny requested as they set down their equipment.

Marco and Chet set the stokes down near the doorway and rushed to move the requested furniture.

"I'm Roy DeSoto and this is my partner John Gage." Roy and Johnny both removed their helmets as Roy began his assessment. Johnny opened up the orange box, screwed in the antennae and made contact with the hospital.

"Rampart, this is squad 51. How do you read?"

"I-I didn't know what t-to do," the woman said, her voice trembling uncontrollably.

"You did just fine," Roy soothed, placing his hand on top of hers encouraging her to relinquish her hold on the blood-soaked cloth. He noticed her bruise, but made no mention of it. He turned his attention to his patient. "Sir, what's your name?"

"Winston, Paul Winston," the man said in a breathy voice. His pain level was obviously acute.

"Mr. Winston, can you tell me what happened?"

"I got shot! What's it look like happened?" He responded sarcastically, grimacing with pain as Roy took a look at the wound.

Roy began cutting away the man's shirt, palpating along his back in search of an exit wound.

"Owe! Damn that hurts! Disrespectful little bastard," the injured man grumbled in reference to his perpetrator.

"Alright, I can feel the bullet back here, so it didn't exit." He began taking vitals, knowing that Johnny was poised with his pen taking notes.

"Ma'am?" Johnny called out, the black handset trapped between his left shoulder and his ear. He needed to get some basic information from her while Roy got the needed vitals.

"Vi-Vivian," she answered, moving closer to the dark-haired paramedic to answer his questions. The entire situation seemed so surreal to her. She felt like she was moving in slow motion, as if in a trance or a dream. "Brett…have they found Brett?"

Johnny noted that she wrapped her arms protectively around her abdomen as she shifted her position. "They're looking for him, but right now I need to get some information from you. What's your husband's age, medical history, taking any medications?"

While Johnny was getting the specifics and Roy was treating the patient, Hank and Vince consulted on the front door step.

"So what started this?"

Vince shook his head in frustration. "Best I can tell, the kid was mad at his stepfather and shot him. The victim recognized the gun as his own handgun. I've got some guys looking around the house to see if he ditched it when he ran." Vince looked at Hank with obvious concern in his eyes. "Take a look at the wife's wrist. I'm guessing that her husband was being rough with her and the kid stepped in to defend her."

"Well, let's just hope that young man doesn't do anything stupid." Hank knew these situations could go from bad to worse with lightning speed, especially where juveniles and guns were concerned. The Mayfield ambulance arrived and Hank directed them to the front door as Vince approached the other officers on scene for an update.

Back inside the residence, Johnny was taking orders from Dr. Early.

"51, start an IV lactated Ringer's, large bore. Draw blood for type and cross match. Administer 5 mgs MS IV push, monitor vitals and transport as soon as possible."

"Large bore IV Ringer's, type and cross, 5 mgs MS IV push, 10-4 Rampart. Ambulance is on scene."

As soon as the patient was ready for transport, Johnny shifted his concern to the wife since Roy would be riding in with the patient. "Chet?"

The lineman looked up at the sound if his name being called.

"Take this out to Roy, will ya?" He asked handing Chet the biophone.

"I-I need to find m-my son," Vivian stuttered, still looking dazed.

"Let the police do that. They'll do it faster than you can. Now, why don't you let me check you out? How far along are you?"

"Uh, seven and a half months," she mumbled, allowing Johnny to ease her down on the sofa.

Johnny began checking her vitals. He tried to keep his face neutral, not liking the readings he was getting. "Has the pregnancy been progressing normally so far?"

"Yea… I-I'm hoping it's a girl." She smiled, tiredly.

Johnny was concerned that they were going to find out the gender of the baby much sooner than they would like. He looked around for a telephone, seeing one on the far wall in the kitchen. "Is that your only phone?"

"Oh, um, no there's one on the fl-floor by the chair," she said softly, pressing her lips into a thin line as a sudden pain spread across her abdomen radiating around to her back.

Marco heard the comment and immediately retrieved the phone for Johnny. "Want me to call Rampart?"

"Yea, thanks Lopez." Johnny wrote down the vitals in his small pocket-sized notebook. "Have you been having any contractions?"

"I'm not su-sure. My back's been hurting a little today."

"Have you hurt your back somehow?" Johnny hoped his suspicions were incorrect.

"I bumped into the kitchen table earlier."

Johnny knew there was much more to the story, but for the moment, he was more concerned about the health and safety of his new patient and her unborn child.

Marco thrust the handset of the landline into Johnny's line of sight. "Dixie's on the phone. Want me to get another one rolling?" He asked cryptically.

"Yea, I think we're gonna need it."

E!

Inside the ambulance, Roy's patient was still complaining, even though the morphine was making him a bit woozy. "They found that kid yet?"

Roy finished counting the man's pulse then checked the flow on the IV. "I haven't heard. Has he been in trouble before?"

Paul looked away before answering. He knew he carried some responsibility in his own injury. "No, he just needs to stay outta my business is all. What happens between me and my old lady is my business, not his."

Roy swallowed hard, looking out the window trying to judge their ETA. "So, having marital problems, huh?"

"Something like that… You married?" The injured man asked, flinching as the ambulance hit a small bump in the road.

"Yes."

"Got any kids?" He continued his line of questioning.

"A couple." Roy didn't like where the conversation was going.

"Women change when they get pregnant, don't they?"

Roy contemplated his answer. "Lots of things change when a child is on the way."

"Well… I just had to remind her that she's still my wife."

Roy felt the familiar turn of the ambulance into the long emergency entrance and was grateful that the conversation was ending. "We're at the hospital now. Just relax for me, alright?"

E!

By the time the second ambulance arrived on scene, Johnny had his patient ready for transport. He was doing everything he could to keep her calm. He had been able to establish an IV and had used the portable oxygen from the engine, placing the mask over her face before loading her in the back of the ambulance. He positioned himself beside her as his captain closed the doors, tapping twice to signal the driver they were safely inside the vehicle.

As the ambulance pulled away from the scene, Vince stepped over to Hank. He wanted to give the man an update on their domestic situation.

Chet and Marco finished cleaning up the debris inside the residence, closing the door behind them as they walked out the front door. They saw Hank lower his face as if looking at the ground. After a few tense moments, they saw him look back up and turn to walk towards them. One look at his face and they both knew something was wrong.

E!

Marco climbed back into his jump seat, his eyes misting over for the young man he had never met. His heart broke for the mother who might be bringing one child into the world on the same day that she lost another. He thought of all the other teenagers being swallowed alive in the city of angels, praying that somehow he and his family would not receive the sad news that the Winstons' were going to receive soon. His mind then shifted gears as Stoker pulled the engine out onto the street heading back to the station. Would knowing the painful truth be better than living with the agony of unfulfilled hope?

E!

Nearly an hour later, Chet pulled up at the emergency entrance at Rampart General Hospital. He slid himself out of the seat, slamming the door behind him. Just as he walked up to the automatic glass doors, he saw the paramedic duo walking towards him. He tried to read their faces, but couldn't tell how their patients were fairing based on their facial expressions alone. He hated to be the bearer of bad news.

"Hey fellas," he said glumly.

Roy didn't speak to the lineman, trying to decide whether his somber mood was related to their earlier confrontation or the run they had just completed. He was glad when Johnny spoke instead.

"What's the matter with you?" Johnny questioned, looking at Chet from the side, one eyebrow cocked higher than the other.

"The, uh, the shooter, you know, that kid? The police spotted him over on Chalmer's Street and he ran."

"Did they catch him?" Roy asked, deciding to join the conversation.

Chet shook his head. "Naw, ran into the street and got hit by a utility truck, a dually. He, ah…his head was…" Chet looked down at his feet. "Cops called the coroner."

"Sonofabitch," Johnny mumbled, slamming his hand against the back of the squad. He hadn't felt this frustrated since the day at Station 10 when he and his partner lost the patient who had been electrocuted. Ultimately, that was the event that had led him to the fledgling paramedic program. He looked up at the two sets of blue eyes staring at him, looking just as disappointed as his own. "Why the hell can't adults just act like adults? Then so many kids wouldn't get hurt… or killed." He had no idea that the arrow his words had just hurled had hit a bull's eye in his partner's heart.


End file.
